I 


l*i  ' 

#r 


Hau/^'s  [tast, 


OR 


R  Tale  of  thie  Delaware  Valley 

ar]d  Historical   Ronqarice 

of  1690, 


BY 


THE  GAZETTE 

BOOK  &  JOB  PRINT, 

Port  Jervis,  N.  Y. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in 

the  year  1892,  by 

JAMES  M.  ALLERTON, 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress 

at  Washington,  D.  C. 


Stack 
Annex 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  L— A   Bird's    Eye  View   of  the   Delaware   and 

-   |;--    Neversink  Valleys  from  Hawk's  Nest  Mountains. 

CHAPTER  II.— The  Water  Spout. 

CHAPTER  III.— Tom  and  Drake  at  the  Lifting  Rocks. 

CHAPTER  IV.— The  Bear  and  Panther. 

CHAPTER  V.— Parting  of  Mother  and  Child. 

CHAPTER  Vt.— Cahoonshee. 

CHAPTER  VII.— The  House  of  Death. 

CHAPTER  VIII.— Cahoonshee  on  the  Origin  of  Man. 

CHAPTER  IX.— The  Teacher  and  Pupil. 

CHAPTER  X.— Asleep  on  her  Mother's  Grave— Going  Fish- 
ing— True  until  Death. 

CHAPTER  XL— The  Second  Lesson— Completing  his  Edu- 
cation— Found  new  Friends — The]  Mutiny — Death  of 
Sambo. 

CHAPTER  XII.— Moccasin  tracks  in  the  sand— Cahoonshee 

at  the  Climbing  Tree — The  Battle  of  the  Neversink 

Drake's  fearful  leap — The  virtue  of  the  Grape  Vine. 

CHAPTER  XIII.— The  Dead  Shot— The  Bee  Tree— Amy  a 
Prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians. 

CHAPTER  XIV.— Restored  to  reason— Cora,  the  Rough 
Diamond — A  Temperance  Lecture — Found  two  Grand- 
Fathers. 

CHAPTER  XV.— Death  of  Admiral  Powers— Five  years  in  a 
Mad  House — Appointed  a  Lieutenant — Return  to 
America. 


2072346 


CHAPTER  XVI.— The  bee  hunters— Drake  and  Rolla  on 
the  trail — Call  of  the  tree  toad — Answer  of  the  blue- 
jay. 

CHAPTER  XVII.— The  storm— Buried-in  the  river— Old 
Shell  to  the  rescue — Which  is  which  and  what  is 
what? 

CHAPTER  XVIII.— The  hunt— The  fatal  shot. 

CHAPTER  XIX.— Mutual  mistakes— The  lost  child  found— 
Cahoonshee's  last  will. 

CHAPTER  XX.— Farewell  to  earth— Cahoonshee  on  the  fu- 
ture — Death  of  Cahoohshee — Married  on  her  mother's 
grave. 

CHAPTER  XXL— Cora  receives  her  reward 

CHAPTER  XXII.— Death  of  Thomas  Quick,  Sr.,  and  the 
threat  of  his  son  Tom. 

CHAPTER  XXIII.— Tom  kept  his  vow  and  had  his  revenge. 

CHAPTER  XXIV.— Killing  a  buck  with  seven  skins— The 
biter  bitten — Throwing  a  young  Indian  down  the  rocks 
— Hiding  guns  in  hollow  trees. 

CHAPTER  XXV.— The  whiskey  scene— Six  Indians  roasted. 

CHAPTER  XXVI.Capture,  escape  and  death  of  Tom— Hon- 
ored by  a  monument. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  Bird's  Eye  Yiew  of  the  Delaware  and  Neyersiak  Yalleys 
From  Hawk's  Nest  Mountain. 


It  is  contrast  that  makes  the  beautiful.  What  a  monota- 
nous  world  this  would  be  if  it  was  one  entire  level  plane.  It 
is  the  varigated  colors  that  makes  the  landscape  beautiful 
.and  harmonious.  In  fact  it  is  upon  contrasts  that  we  build 
all  of  our  notions  of  the  beautiful.  Yet  the  same  object  seen 
by  different  persons,  from  the  same  standpoint,  creates  dif- 
ferent impressions.  Some  admire  the  Alpine  mountains 
•and  deep  blue  sky  of  Italy,  and  the  towering  majesty  of  Mont 
Blanc.  Here,  with  them,  all  creation  is  centered,  and  there 
is  nothing  beautiful  that  is  not  connected  with  Italian  skys, 
hills  or  landscapes. 

Others  view  Vesuvius,  and  admire  the  smoke  and  fire  as  it 
is  thrown  heavenward.  Others  immure  themselves  within 
the  walls  of  cities  like  New  York  or  London,  and  satiate 
their  eyes  with  brick  and  mortar,  and  their  ears  with  a  jar- 

• 

gon  of  sounds.  Others  admire  a  more  extended  scenery,  or 
rather  a  scenery  where  nature  is  represented  in  all  its  vari- 
gated  colors  ;  where  river  and  rivulet  are  blended  into  one  ; 
•where  the  cascade  and  cateract  drop  their  moisture  into  the 


deepth  below;  where  the  funa  and  flora  are  equally  distrib- 
uted ;  where  the  mountain  ascends  thousands  of  feet,  in  con- 
trast with  the  plane  below.  In  a  word,  where  nature's  great 
architect  has  faithfully  executed  the  fore-ordained  design. 

But  where  can  this  perfection  be  found?  Where  is  this 
Eden? 

I  have  gazed  upon  all  the  cities  of  the  world  :  From  Mont 
Blanc  1  have  viewed  Italy  and  Switzerland;  From  Pike's 
Peak  I  have  viewed  the  Pacific  and  the  western  slope  ;  I 
have  stood  over  the  thundering  and  majestic  Niagara  and 
viewed  the  spray  going  heavenward.  All  these  views  are 
grand  and  sublime,  yet  they  lack  contrast  between  great  and 
small  things  that  are  calculated  to  make  nature  beautiful  in 
all  its  parts  and  satisfy -the  mind,  eye  and  ear  at  a  single 
glance. 

Yet  there  is  one  such  spot  on  earth;  one  beautiful  place 
where  all  these  things  are  combined  ;  one  pinnacle  of  the 
mountain  top,  where  the  eye  can  take  in  all  these  beauties  at 
a  single  glance. 

•  It  is.  that  pinnacle  that  rises  hundreds  of  feet  above  the 
level  and  embraces  within  its  view  the  beautiful  valley  of; 
the  Delaware. 

It  is  Hawk's  Nest  Mountain.  Here  the  Shawangunk  range 
rises  hundreds  of  feet  above  the  Delaware  river,  and  the  be- 
holder imagines  himself  transported  to  the  skies.  These 
heights  are  perpendicular,  or  rather  they  project  over  the 
river,  and  in  its  side  are  deep  furoughs,  crevices  and  cav- 
erns. And  in  these  crevices  and  caverns,  the  hawks  and 
eagles  build  their  nests  and  rear  their  young  without  fear 
of  being  molested  by  man. 

A  few -feet  from  the  Hawk's  Nest  are  the  Lifting  Rocks. 
In  looking  upon  these,  you  gaze  upon  one  of  the  wonders  of 
the  world.  Here  are  three  large  rocks,  but  a  few  hundred 


feet  apart,  weighing  from  30  to  roo  tons,  elevated  above  the 
ground  about  five  feet  and  resting  on  three  stone  pillars. 
These  pillars  are  equal  distance  apart — as  much  so  as  if  they 
had  been  placed  there  on  geomatrical  principles. 

Where  did  these  huge  rocks  come  from  ?  When  were  they 
placed  there,and  by  what  power  were  they  raised  and  placed 
on  these  triangular  pillars. 

Geologists  say  that  they  were  brought  from  a  great  distance 
iiy  the  ice  during  the  glacier  period,and  that  their  setting  on 
these  pillars  of  stone  is  one  of  the  freaks  of  nature  beyond  the 
comprehension  of  man. 

vStanding  at  Hawk's  Nest  and  looking  southeast,  we  behold 
"  High  Point,"  the  most  elevated  land  in  the  State  of  New 
Jersey,  it  being  the  highest  point  in  the  Shawangunk  range 
Northeast  of  us  the  Appalachian  mountains  rise  to  the  hori- 
zen  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 


(H>VS.  ST. 


Turning  to  the  southwest,  "  Pilot  Knob  "  comes  into  view,, 
towering  hundreds  of  feet'above  the  surrounding  hills.  To 
the  northwest  rises  the  Carbon  mountains  that  furnish  us 
with  coal.  And  above  all  towers  Mount  Arrat,where  it  rains^ 
or  snows  every  day  during  the  year. 

This  direction  also  brings  into  view  the  rocky  fortress- 
where  Tom  Quick,  the  Indian  Slayer  dug  his  cave  and  lay  in 
ambush  to  wreak  vengence  on  his  deadly  foe.  Northwest- 
.erly  rises  the  "Fish  Cabin  "  mountains,  through  whose  rocks 
the  water  has  cut  a  channel  hundreds  of  feet  in  depth,  and 
falls  in  the  Delaware  below.  At  Handsome  Eddy  and  Sho- 
hola,  the  rocks  rise  in  majesty  above  the  river,  and  just  be- 
yond is  the  fatal  battleground  of  the  battle  of  the^Minisiiik." 
At  the  north  the  country  is  dotted  by  the  thrifty  farmer  with 
his  cattle  grazing  on  a  thousand  hills. 

About  five  miles  east  from  Hawk!s  Nest  rises  the  Shawan- 
gunk  mountain,  and  at  its  base  flows  the  lovely  and  placid 
Neversink  (Mahackamack)  river. 

The  Neversink  valley  runs  northeast  and  southwest  whilst 
the  Delaware  Valley  runs  north  west  and  southeast.  The  wat- 
ers of  the  Delaware  and  Neversink  unite  about  five  miles- 
from  Hawk's  Nest.at  a  point  called  "Tri-States  Rock,"  this 
being  a  place  that  a  person  can  stand  in  three  states  at  the 
same  time — New  York,  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania. 

Two  miles  above  Hawk's  Nest,  the  waters  af  the  Mongaup 
empty  into  the  Delaware  river.  One-and-a-half  miles  east  of 
Hawk's  Nest,  the  rapid  Shinglekill  plunges  into  the  Dela- 
ware river.  The  fountain-head  of  this  stream  is  a  Big  Pond, 
a  small  lake,about  three  miles  from  Huguenot.  The  waters 
of  the  Steneykill-and  Little  Pond  unite  with  the  Shinglekill. 
The  Sparrowbush  unites  with  the  Delaware  about  three  miles 
from  Hawk's  Nest.  Below  Hawk's  Nest  Rock  is  Hawk's  Nest 
road,  a  lovely  and  romantic  drive,  from  which  can  be  seen 
the  beautiful  views  I  have  described.  Hundreds  of  feet  be- 


low  this  road  runs  the  Delaware  and  Hudson  canal.  As  our 
vision  extends  across  the  canal  and  river  to  the  Pennsylvania 
shore,  we  see  the  iron  horse,  puffing  and  blowing,  as  if  to 
escape  from  the  power  of  man.  As  we  watch  it  in  its  course, 
it  dashes  across  the  iron  bridge  at  Saw  Mill  Rift  and  enters 
the  state  of  New  York.  At  the  angle  of  the  Neversink  and 
Delaware  rivers,  nestling  between  the  mountains,  lays  the 
beautiful  city  of  Port  Jervis,  with  its  factories,  churches  and 
monuments.  On  the  west  rises  the  lofty  spires  of  Mount 
William  and  Point  Peter,  and  opposite  in  the  sister  State  of 
Pennsylvania  is  located  the  beautiful  village  of  Matamoras, 
the  rival  town  of  Milford,  whilst  a  little  to  the  south  is  locat- 
ed the  pretty  village  of  Tri-States.  About  five  miles  north- 
east from  Port  Jervis,  on  the  line  of  the  canal, near  the  banks 
of  the  Neversink,  is  the  old  Peanpack  (Huguenot)  settlement. 
Thus  I  have  described  the  Delaware  Valley  as  seen  by  a  bird's 
eye  view  in  July  1891. 

But  it  is  not  of  this  time  I  write.  Our  tale  of  love  and 
suffering  dates  back  two  hundred  years  ago  ;  when  the  red 
man  of  the  forest  held  sway,  and  contended  for  every  inch 
of  ground  that  the  white  man  attempted  to  appropriate  ; 
when  the  war  whoop,  mstead  of  the  steam  whistle,  was 
heard. 


CHAPTER  II. 
The  Water  Spout. 


On  a  cold  rainy  day  in  the  month  of  September,  1689,  two 
emigrant  wagons,  each  drawn  by  a  pair  -o'f  oxen,  was  seen 
passing  along  the  old  Kingston  trail,  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Neversink,  toward  Peanpack.  The  day  was  far  advanced, 
and  the  night  was  threatening.  The  women,  children  and 


furniture  were  concealed  within  a  covered  wagon.  The  dri- 
vers, with  a  hickory  gad  in  their  hands,  were  beside  the 
oxen.  And  thus,  over  stump,  log  and  stone,  they  trudged 
along.  An  opening  is  made  in  the  cover,  and  a  sweet,  pretty 
face  peeps  out.  Lewis,  ain't  we  most  to  Peanpack  ?  I'm 
cold,  tired  and  hungry,  and  Amy  is  quite  sick.  Get  along, 
said  Lewis,  at  the  same  time  bringing  the  gad  down  on  the 
oxen.  Yes,  replied  he,  we  will  soon  be  there,  and  if  the 
pesky  red-skins  will  let  us  alone  we  will  have  a  good  night's 
rest.  This  was  Lewis  Powers  with  his  wife  and  child  en  route 
for  the  far  west  in  search  of  a  home.  Amy,  their  daughter, 
was  a  bright  little  girl,  five  years  old.  His  wife  was  a  model 
of  a  wife  and  mother,  twenty-two  years  old,  whilst  Lewis 
was  twenty-six,  a  strong,  robust  and  healthy  man.  The 
next  wagon  contained  William  Wallace,  wife  and  boy.  Just 
as  the  sun  was  hiding  itself  behind  the  western  hills,  the 
party  reached  the  Peanpack  ford.  This  was  passed  safely, 
and,  passing  up  the  banks  a  few  rods  they  encamped  for  the 
night.  The  wagon  was  unpacked,  and  out  came  a  young 
Newfoundland  dog  and  two  white  cats.  A  fire  was  built  and 
in  a  short  time  the  party  sat  down  to  supper.  The  party 
had  left  Conneticut  eleven  days  before  and  had  now  reached 
within  three  days  journey  of  their  future  home.  Wallace's 
boy's  name  was  Walter  and  he  was  six  years  old.  The  next 
morning  they  broke  camp  and  the  next  night  camped  on  the 
west  side  of  the  Mongaup.  The  next  day  brought  them  to 
Beaver  Brook,  and  just  after  sunset  of  the  third  day  they  ar- 
rived on  the  banks  ot  the  Callicoon,  or  East  Branch  of  the 
Fishkill  (Delaware.)  They  selected  a  spot  on  the  south  side 
of  the  stream  and.went  to  work  in  earnest  to  clear  a  farm. 
Wallace  located  about  half  a  mile  up  stream  above  Powers/  In 
the  course  of  a  few  days  each  of  them  had  built  a  small,  but 
comfortable  log  house.  A  confiding  friendship  was  soon  estab- 


10 

lished  between  Walter  and  Amy,  and  the  dog,  Rolla,  grew  to 
be  large  and  sagacious.  Wallace's  house  stood  but  a  few 
rods  below  a  large  beaver  dam  that  flowed  over  several  hundred 
acres.  They  brought  with  them  a  large  quantity  of  amuni- 
tion  and  traps.  Otter  and  beaver  were  plenty  in  the  streams 
and  before  the  arrival  of  spring  the  two  men  had  dried  sev- 
eral hundred  dollars  worth  of  furs  which  they  sold  to  the 
traders  that  went  up  and  down  the  river  in  flat  boats. 

Thus,year  after  year  passed.  Nothing  occurred  to  disturb 
the  harmony  of  the  settlers.  Now  and  then  a  straggling  In- 
dian called,  but  never  molested  them.  They  were  contented 
and  prosperous.  Amy  was  now  ten  and  Walter  twelve  years 
old.  The  mothers  of  the  children  had  taught  them  to  read 
and  write.  Several  acres  of  land  had  been  cleared  on  each 
farm  and  log  barns  built.  But  now  a  misfortune  that  entire- 
ly changes  the  destiny  of  these  families  overtakes  them.  An 
unusual  drouth  had  occurred.  Little  or  no  rain  had  fallen 
during  the  months  of  June  and  July.  The  heat  was  intense 
and  almost  unbearable. 

Powers  was  dressing  a  deer  that  he  had  just  shot  in  the 
river.  Amy  and  Rolla  were  playing  at  the  door  and  Mary 
was  writing  a  letter  to  her  Conneticut  friends  to  send  by  the 
next  trading  party,  when  an  unlooked-for  clap  of  thunder 
broke  upon  them.  Instantly  a  dark  cloud  is  seen  in  the  west. 
It  was  so  dark  and  thick  that  it  almost  shut  out  the  light  of 
the  sun.  Then  came  a  gust  of  wind  which  increased  in  its 
fury  every  moment.  This  was  followed  by  a  heavy  rain.  It 
fell  in  such  torrents  that  in  less  than  an  hour  the  river  began 
to  rise  and  overflow  t^e  banks.  Just  then  Walter  Wallace 
came  running  in  and  said: 

Father  wants  you  to  come  and  help  him.  There  has 
been  a  water  spout.  The  beaver  dam  is  going  out,  and  we 
will  all  be  washed  away. 


11 

Before  Walter  had  finished  his  story,  Powers  was  on  his 
way  to  assist  his  neighbor.  On  arriving  there,  he  was  con- 
vinced that  nothing  could  save  them.  The  storm  was  raging 
in  all  its  fury.  Trees  were  torn  up  by  their  roots,  and  the 
air  was  filled  with  branches. 

Save  your  wife  and  child,  cried  out  Powers ;  get  them  on 
the  raft.  Wallace's  wife  and  Powers  sprang  to  the  raft. 
Wallace  cried  out  to  his  son:  Go  into  the  house  and  get  my 
gun.  Walter  sprang  into  the  house  and  took  down  the  gun. 
The  crash  came.  The  entire  beaver  dam  had  given  away 
and  the  water  and  logs  passed  between  him  and  the  raft. 
Walter  sprang  on  a  fallen  tree  and  escaped  to  high  ground. 
Turning,  he  saw  that  the  raft,  with  his  father,  mother  and 
Powers  had  broken  loose  and  was  swiftly  passing  down  the 
stream,  surrounded  by  trees  and  logs.  In  a  few  moments  the 
hoiise  shared  the  same  fate.  Thus,  in  an  hour,  what  they 
had  toiled  for  years  to  build  up,  was,  in  a  moment,  wash- 
ed away. 

Mary  Powers, as  soon  as  her  husband  left,  went  to  the  river 
bank.  She  was  convinced  from  the  appearance  of  the  water 
spout  that  her  own  home  would  soon  be  washed  away.  The 
water  was  now  running  around  the  house  and  retreat  to  the 
higher  ground  was  cut  off.  With  the  sagacity  of  a  mother, 
she  ordered  Amy  on  the  raft  that  was  tied  to  a  sapling  on 
the  river  bank  but  a  few  feet  from  the  door,  and  then  hur- 
ridly  throwing  a  blanket  over  her  shoulders,  stepped  on  the 
raft.  Rolla  whined  and  barked,  jumping  out  of  the  house 
and  then  in  again,  as  if  in  search  of  something  he  did 
not  like  to  leave  behind.  The  white  cat  appeared  and  Rolla 
took  her  in  his  mouth  and  with  a  bound  leaped  on  the  raft. 
At  that  moment  Wallace  and  his  wife  passed  her. 

Where  is  Powers  ?  cried  the  anxious  wife  and  mother.  The 
incessant  slash  of  the  water  prevented  her  from  hearing,  but 
Wallace's  finger  pointed  to  the  water. 


12 

Drowned  !  she  cried  ;  Amy,  you  have  no  father. 

For  over  an  hour  the  sapling  held  the  raft,  when  a  gigan- 
tic tree  that  had  been  washed  from  the  banks,  struck  it,  and 
they  were  hurled  into  the  foam  of  thai  mad  stream.  One? 
and  only  one  saw  them  start.  Walter  Wallace  had  reached  a 
point  of  land  opposite  Power's  house,  but  could  get  no  near- 
er. A  few  moments  after  the  raft  broke  loose  the  house  fol- 
lowed. As  young*  as  Walter  was,  he  took  in  the  situation, 
and  realized  the  fact  that  he  was  not  only  an  orphan,  but 
.that  Amy  and  Mary  must  meet  a  watery  grave.  No  boat 
could  live  in  that  wild  stream.  He  had  but  one  thing  to  con- 
sole him — the  dog  and  cat  might  swim  ashore  and  find  him. 
Then  he  gave  vent  to  his  pent  up  feelings  and  cried  until  he 
fel!  asleep,  where  we  will  leave  him  for  the  present. 


CHAPTER  JII. 
Tom  and  Drake  at  the  Lifting  Bocks. 


I  now  take  my  readers  to  Hawk's  Nest.  There  sets,  or 
rather  lay  two  young  men,  not  yet  out  of  their  teens,  under 
one  of  the  Lifting  Rocks.  The  wind  blew  a  gale  from  the 
northwest  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents.  They  were  dressed 
in  hunter  style.  Both  were  strong  and  vigorous.  One  had  a 
rifle  laying  by  his  side  and  the  other  an  Indian  bow  and  ar- 
rows. Under  the  rock  lay  a  deer  that  they  had  killed  just 
before  the  storm  commenced.  They  seemed  to  be  very  much 
attached  to  each  other,  but  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  they 
were  not  brothers.  Both  had  grown  to  the  stature  of  men. 
The  elder,  whose  name  was  Charles  Drake,  weighed  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds, with  light  eyes  and  hair.  The 


13 

other  was  called  Tom  Quick.  He  was  of  dark  features,  black 
hair  and  brown  eyes.  And  as  they  lay  under  the  rock  wait- 
ing for  the  rain  to  cease,  they  engaged  in  the  following  con- 
versation :  ' 

I  say,  Tom,  how  do  you  think  these  large  rocks  got  on  the 
top  of  these  large  stones  ? 

I  don't  know  !  replied  Drake.  I  have  often  thought  about 
that  a  great  many  times.  I  suppose  the  Great  Spirit  placed 
them  there.  If  the  Great  Spirit  piled  up  these  mountains 
and  dug  out  the  great  rivers,  He  could  easily  lift  one  of  these 
rocks. 

Oh  !  replied  Tom,  that  is  a  very  easy  way  of  building 
rocks,  rivers  and  mountains,to  say  the  Great  Spirit  done  it; 
but  who  made  the  Great  Spirit  you  are  always  talking  about? 
Who  has  ever  seen  or  heard  him  ? 

I  can't  answer  that,  replied  Drake;  I  only  know  what  my 
squaw  mother  told  me;  that  the  Great  Spirit  made  all  these 
things,  and  the  Indian  thinks  he  sees  the  Great  Spirit  in  the 
lofty  mountain,  foaming  streams  and  rustling  leaves.  He 
thinks  he  hears  Him  in  the  whistling  wind, the  roaring  cataract 
and  the  belching  thunder.  He  thinks  he  feels  Himhere,(lay- 
ing  his  hand  on  his  heart.)  He  believes  that  when  he  dies 
he  will  meet  this  Great  Spirit  in  the  happy  hunting  grounds, 
never  to  part  again.  But  Tom,  what  does  your  own  good 
mother  tell  you  about  these  things  ? 

Tom  seemed  to  awake  from  a  dream.  He  had  listened  at- 
tentively to  what  his  companion  had  said,  and  it  seemed  to 
have  awakened  new  ideas  in  his  mind. 

My  mother,  replied  Tom,  talks  about  these  things  in  a  dif- 
ferent  way.  She  hates  the  Indian  and  the  Indian's  Great  Spirit. 
She  says  God  done  all  these  wonderful  things,and  she  reads  to 
us  from  an  old  leather  book,  held  together  by  iron  straps; 
that  God  made  the  mountains  and  rivers;  the  trees  and  flow 


u 

ers;  the  birds  and  the  fish;  the  thunder  and  the  ligtning;  and 
last  of  all  he  made  man;  and  that  if  we  are  good,  when  we 
die  we  will  go  to  God  and  live  with  him  forever. 

Did  your  mother  or  any  of  you  ever  see  God  ?  ask  Drake. 

No,  replied  Tom,  mother  says  God  is  a  Spirit  and  can't  be 
seen,  but  is  in  everything  and  is  everywhere  ;  that  he  is 
now  looking  at  us  and  hears  what  we  say. 

It  was  now  Drake's  turn  to  be  astonished.  The  white 
man's  God  saw  all  that  was  said  and  done:  He  even  heard 
what  he  and  Tom  was  talking  about.  Throwing  himself  on 
the  other  side,  he  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and 
then  said  : 

Tom,  I  guess  there  ain't  much  difference  between  the 
white  man's  God  and  the  Indian's  Great  Spirit.  Neither  of 
them  have  been  seen, but  both  of  them  have  done  all  these  won - 
derous  works.  It  looks  to  rne  that  they  are  the  same  certain 
something  that  we  don't  know — can't  know  much  about  until 
we  arrive  at  the  Great  Hunting  Grounds. 

Thus,  these  untutored  youths  speculated  upon  what  has 
racked  the  brains  of  philosophers  of  all  ages,  and  with  about 
the  same  results. 

I  say,  Tom,  do  you  think  that  the  Great  God,  or  Great 
Spirit,  (I  don't  think  it  makes  much  difference  which  you  call 
them,)  works  as  we  do?  That  he  has  hands,  feet,  eyes  and 
ears?  That  he  smooths  these  rocks  as  we  do  the  stones  that 
we  grind  corn  with?  That  it  was  in  this  way  he  made  the 
Bottle  Rocks  that  stick  up  in  the  Neversink  river? 

I  don't  know,  replied  Tom,  scratching  his  head  as  if  in 
search  of  an  idea.  I  only  know  what  the  missionary  says 
about  it.  He  says  the  Bottle  Rocks  were  once  large,  ragged 
rocks  that  broke  loose  from  the  mountain  and  fell  into  a  pool 
of  water,  and  for  agea  were  whirled  about  until  they  were 
made  into  the  shape  of  a  bottle.  But  on  the 


15 

Steneykill  there  are  two  other  funny  made  stones — large 
white  ones — as  large  as  the  rock  we  lie  under — in 
the  shape  of  a  heart.  They  are  just  alike,  yet  they  are  hun- 
dreds of  feet  apart.  The  missionary  says  they  were  once  in 
one  stone  and  were  frozen  in  the  ice.  That  when  the  warm 
weather  came,  the  ice  brought  them  down  here.  That  the 
ice  struck  a  mountain  of  stone  and  split  the  rock  into  two 
parts  and  dropped  one  half  and  carried  the  other  half  a  little 
further  and  then  dropped  that. 

Who  and  what  is  this  missionary  that  knows  so  much?  ask- 
Drake  ? 

Oh,  said  Tom,,he  is  a  man;  only  a  man,  and  looks  just'  as 
we  do. 

Oh!  I  am  glad  of  that,  replied  Drake;  I  thought  he  might 
be  the  God  your  mother's  book  tells  about. 

Drake,  you  often  speak  about  your  squaw  mother.  Where 
is  your  real  mother? 

That  I  don't  know,  replied  Drake.  I  have  no  recollections 
of  any  mother, except  the  old  Indian  woman  that  Hived  with, 
until  your  father  captured  me  on  the  Mongaup.  From  my 
earliest  recollection,  I  remained  in  the  Indian  camp  until  the 
time  I  came  to  your  house,  and  since  that  time,  your  mother 
has  been  my  mother.  From  what  I  could  learn  whilst  I  was 
among  the  Indians,  my  father  and  mother  lived  on  a  big  boat 
that  had  big  guns  that  made  a  noise  as  loud  as  thunder,  and 
would  carry  a  thousand  Indian  canoes  on  deck.  And  it  was 
Whilst  father  and  mother  were  on  shore  that  the  Indians 
stole  me  and  carried  me  off,  for  the  purpose  of  getting  big 
money.  And  this  was  about  all  they  would  tell  me.  The 
first  that  [  can  remember, we  lived  in  a  big  rock  house  (cave.) 
It  is  not  a  great  way  trom  the  place  the  Indians  call  Stock- 
bridge.  It  was  with  the  Stockbridge  Indians  I  lived.  My 
old  Indian  mother  used  me  as  well  as  other  Indian  children 


16 

were  used.  When  they  went  on  their  war  or  hunting  ex- 
peditions, the  women  and  children  were  generally  left  at 
home.  Our  living  was  wild  game  and  Indian  corn.  Every 
year,  a  party  was  formed  to  go  on  a  hunt  for  beaver  and  ot- 
ter, for  the  purpose  of  getting  their  furs  to  sell  to  the  trad- 
ers, for  which  they  got  in  return  beads,  knives,  tomahawks, 
and  fire-water.  It  was  on  one  of  these  hunting  expeditions 
after  otter,  at  the  head-waters  of  the  Mongaup,  that  your 
father  captured  me. 

I  have  said  that  usually,  my  Indian  mother  used  me  well. 
But  there  were  times  when  she  was  cruel.  When  she  got  mad 
she  was  furious,  and  would  come  at  me  with  all  vengence, 
with  knife,  club,  or  anything  she  could  get  hold  of.  Then  I 
would  run  in  the  woods  to  get  away  from  her,and  sometimes 
stay  three  or  four  days. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions  that  your  father  found 
me  and  brought  me  to  your  house,  and  you  know  the 
rest. 

Did  the  Indians  make  that  black  spot  on  your  breast  ?  ask- 
ed Tom. 

I  don't  know,  replied  Drake.  It  has  always  been  there. 
The  Indians  called  it  big  canoe.  Look,  Tom,  and  see  what 
it  looks  like,  said  Drake,  at  the  same  time  baring  his  bosom. 

Why  Drake,  that  is  an  anchor!  said  Tom;  and  sure  enough, 
there  is  a  big  canoe;  yes,  and  there  are  letters  on  it,  like  the 
ones  in  mother's  old  bible.  There  is  C.  D.  on  the  top,  and  E. 
N.  on  the  bottom.  That  wan't  made  by  the  Indians,  Drake, 
maybe  your  father  put  that  there.  It  don't  look  like  Indian 
work;  they  paint  themselves,  but  that  nibs  off,  but  this 
don't  rub  off.  Water  won't  wash  it  out. 

No,  replied  Drake,  the  more  I  wash  it>  the  plainer  it  gets. 
It  seems  to  be  under  the  skin. 


17 

What  did  they  call  you  when  you  were  among  the  Indians? 
asked  Tom. 

"  Swift  Foot,  "^replied  Drake. 

And  why  did  father  name  you  Drake,  when  he  brought 
you  to  our  house  ? 

He  said  that,  or  something  like  that  was  my  name;  that  it 
was  painted  on  my  traast. 

I  see,  replied  Tom.     "C.  D.,"  that  means  Charles  Drake. 

The  sun  was  now  down.  The  wind  whistled  and  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents.  The  hawks  had  hid  themselves  within  the 
caverns  of  the  rocks.  The  beasts  of  prey  had  sought  refuge 
from  the  storm,  ani  the  boys  concluded  to  remain  under  the 
rock  until  morning. 

Thus,  they  slept  in  unconcious  bliss,  when  suddenly  they 
were  aroused  by  an  unearthly  noise  that  pierced  them  to 
their  hearts.  Such  shrieks  were  calculated  to  arouse  the 
slumbering  deal.  Tom  caught  his  rifle,  and  Drake  his  bow 
and  arrows.  The  storm  had  cleared;  the  rain  had  ceased, 
and  the  sun  was  just  rising  over  the  Shawangunk  Moun- 
tains. The  shrieks  continued. 

What  does  this  mean?  cried  Drake,  are  the  Indians  upon 
us?  and  is  this  their  war-whoop? 

No,  repled  Tom,  it  is  the  hawks.  They  are  out  in  full 
force. 

I  should  think  so,  replied  Drake.  They  are  so  thick  that 
they  darken  the  sun.  See  them  dive  down.  They  think 
that  they  see  the  carcass  of  a  deer  in  the  river,  and  want  to 
pick  its  bones  for  breakfast,  but  something  scares  them 
back. 

Tom,  by  this  tims,  was  at  the  top  of  the  pinnacle  where  he 
could  see  miles  up  and  down  the.  river.  The  banks  were  full 
and  the  whole  river  was  strewn  with  logs,  trees  and  drift* 


18 

wood.     The  hawks   continued    to    dive    down    towards   the 
water,  then  suddenly  rising  and  screaming. 

I  see-!  I  see  !  cried  Tom.  See  there,  Drake;  there  is  a 
raft  just  going  through  the  Cellar  Hole!  Yes,  by  Jove!  there 
it  goes,  and  there  is  something  on  it  ! 

That  is  so,  rejoined  Drake.    It  is  a  bear. 

Yes,  it  is  a  bear,  but  what  is  that  it  is  standing  over  ?  It 
is  a  woman.  I  see  her  dress. 

It  must  be  a  tame  bear,  rejoined  Drake.  See  it  lick  the 
woman's  hand. 

Stop  !  said  Tom,  I  see  two  women  there,  a  big  and  little 
one,  and  the  little  one  lays  across  the  big  one.  There  is 
something  else  there — a  cat  or  rabbit;  yes,  and  the  bear  is  a 
dog. 

These,  said  Drake,  are  some  of  the  up-the-river-folks,  that 
have  been  washed  away,  and  got  on  the  raft  for  safety.  I 
guess  they  are  all  dead  but  the  dog.  But  we  must  try  and 
save  them.  If  there  is  any  life  in  them, it  will  be  drowned  out 
in  going  through  the  rift  below  the  Island. 

Then  they  sprang  down  the  rocks  like  two  antelopes. 
Reaching  the  river,  Tom  was  about  to  plunge  in. 

Stop  !  cried  his  companion.  Nothing  but  a  duck  or  its 
mate  can  live  in  that  water  ;  I  am  the  mate  of  the  duck;  I 
am  the  Drake  that  will  venture  ! 

And  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  plunged  in.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  disappeared  in  the  surging  foam,  and  then  rose  to 
the  surface.  The  river  was  so  thick  with  drift-wood  that  it 
was  with  difficulty  he  could  stem  the  current. 

At  last  he  reaches  the  raft. 

The  cat  mews — the  dog  whines,  but  the  women  remain  as 
silent  as  the  grave. 


19 

By  superhuman  efforts,  Drake  lands  the  raft  at  the  head  of 
the  Island,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Shinglekill.  Tom  had  run 
along  the  bank,  swam  the  Bennykill,  and  was  at  Drake's  side 
when  the  raft  landed. 

Are  they  dead  ?  exclaimed  a  rough,  stentorian  voice  that 
could  be  heard  above  the  slash  of  the  water,eminatingfrom  a 
person  now  for  the  first  time  introduced  to  our  readers. 

I  guess  so  father,    they  don't  move,  replied  Tom. 

The  old  man  jumped  into  the  canoe  and  bent  his  head  over 
the  prostrate  form  of  the  child.  After  listening  for  a  mo- 
ment, he  snatched  her  in  his  arms  and  said  : 

Her  heart  beats;  as  long  as  that  beats,  there  is  life,  and  as 
long  as  there  is  life,  there  is  hope.  Take  her  to  the  house, 
Drake,  and  tell  Betsy  to  put  her  to  bed  and  cover  her  with 
bear  skins. 

Drake  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  waded  across  the  Benny- 
kill,  and  gently  laid  her  in  bed  and  covered  her  with  skins. 

The  old  man  now  made  an  examination  of  themother,dur- 
ing  which  time  Rolla  kept  whining.  He  would  jump  up  to 
her  and  bark — as  much  as  to  say  "  Look  up  Mary,  you  are  in 
the  hands  of  friends."  But  no  signs  of  life  appeared.  Tap- 
ping the  dog  on  the  head,  the  old  man  said: 

Faithful  animal,  more  faithful  than  some  thajt  claim  to 
have  souls;  not  only  to  death, but  faithful  after.  Yes,dog,you 
may  bark — you  have  a  right  to  bark,  but  you  can't  bark 
her  back,  she  has  gone  to  the  Indians'  fair  Hunting  Ground. 
But  we  must  respect  the  dead.  Here,  Tom,  help  place  her 
in  the  canoe,  we  will  take  her  ashore  and  give  her  Christian 
burial. 

Tom  raised  her  up,  and  as  he  did  so,  large  quantities  of 
water  came  from  her  mouth,  The  dog  barked  and  sprang 
towards  her 


20 

That  is  a  good  sign,  said  the  old  man,  the  dog  has  discov- 
ered life.  Brute,  as  he  is,  yet  instinct  tells  him  more  than 
the  wisest  men  know. 

Look  !  cried  Tom  excitedly.  Her  eyes  quiver  and  her  lips 
move.  Bend  yourself  to  the  paddle,  Tom  !  Pull  for  your 
life!  Pull!  We  may  save  her  yet  ! 

The  shore  was  soon  reached,  and  the  lifeless  body  or  the 
mother  was  laid  by  the  side  of  her  child. 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The    Bear   and    Panther. 


We  left  Walter  Wallace  asleep  on  the  banks  of  the  Callicoon. 
How  long  he  would  have  slept,  we  cannot  say,  had  it  not 
"keen  for  an  unlooked-for  event.  The  day  was  just  dawning. 
The  silver  streak  of  morning  had  lit  up  the  eastern  sky, 
when  Walter,  in  a  half-waking,  and  half-dozing  condition, 
thought  he  felt  Rolla  by  his  side.  He  placed  his  paw  on  him 
and  partially  turned  him  over.  Then  he  run  his  nose  along 
and  smelled  his  body.  Then  came  a  fierce  growl.  This 
brought  Walter  to  his  feet.  A  sight  met  his  eye  calculated 
to  strilce  terror  to  the  heart  of  an  old  hunter. 

At  his  feet  stood  two  young  cubs,  while  at  a  distance  of 
about  twenty  feet,  perched  on  the  limb  of  a  large  tree,  was 
a  large  sized  panther,  and  at  the  root  of  the  tree,  stood  a 
large  black  bear,  the  mother  of  the  cubs  at  his  feet,  looking 
intently  at  the  panther.  As  Walter  raised,  the  bear  turned 
one  quick  glance  at  him,  but  instantly  turned  her  eye  on  the 
panther.  Walter  did  not  know  what  to  do.  It  was  the  pan- 
ther that  he  was  afraid  of.  He  had  been  told  that  a  bear  would 
not  molest  a  person  unless  they  attempted  to  injure  her 


21 

cubs.  It  was  evident  that  the  bear  was  watching  the  actions 
of  the  panther,  and  caring  but  little  for  him.  He  therefore 
concluded  to  make  friends  with  the  bear  by  patting  her 
cubs.  Gently  stooping  down,  he  fondled  the  cubs.  They 
seemed  to  have  no  fear  of  him,  and  played  about  him  like 
two  kittens.  Now  and  then,  the  bear  would  cast  a  wistful 
eye  at  him,  as  much  as  to  say  "protect  my  young."  Just 
then  the  panther  gave  a  spring  and  landed  on  the  limb 
of  the  tree  under  which  Walter  and  the  cubs  lay.  The  bear 
instantly  jumped  to  the  spot,  but  paid  little  or  no  attention 

to  him. 

i 

It  now  occurred  to  Walter  that  he  had  his  father's  gun 
with  him. 

Casting  his  eye  to  the  ground  he  saw  it.  He  immediately 
raised  it  to  his  shoulder,and  taking  steady  aim  across  a  small 
sapling,  aiming  directly  between  the  panther's  eyes,  fired. 
The  panther  fell.  No  sooner  had  it  touched  the  ground, 
than  the  bear  grasped  it,  and  in  an  instant,  its  bowels  were 
torn  from  its  body. 

During  the  encounter  between  the  panther  and  the  bear,the 
bear  kept  up  a  continual  growl.  But  as  soon  as  the  panther 
was  dead,  the  bear  was  as  cool  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
Walking  quietly  up  to  her  cubs,  she  took  one  of  them  in  her 
mouth,  and  carried  it  to  the  panther,  then  she  returned  and 
got  the  other.  Young  as  the  cubs  were,  they  seemed  to  un- 
derstand what  their  mother  meant,  and  immediately  com- 
menced to  lap  the  panther's  blood.  The  old  bear  then  ap- 
proached Walter,  and  smelled  him  all  over,  and  then  re- 
turned to  her  cubs,  and  in  a  few  minutes  walked  off,and  was 
seen  no  more  by  Walter.  Still,  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do 
or  where  to  go,  and  for  the?  first  time  realized  that  he  was. 
hungry. 


22 

The  sun  was  now  far  up  in  the  eastern  sky,  and  he  conclu- 
ded that  he  would  take  that  direction  as  that  would  take  him 
to  Peenpack.  Reloading  his  gun, he  threw  it  across  his 
shoulder  and  started  for  higher  ground  in  an  easterly  di- 
rection. 

He  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance,  when  he  heard  a 
a  voice  say  in  plain  English: 

"  North  !     North  !     A  little  further  north  !  " 

This  both  pleased  and  frightened  him,  and  jumping  upon 
a  large  log,  and  looking  in  the  direction  frorn  which  the 
sounds  proceeded,  to  his  astonishment,  he  saw  a  man  stand- 
ing behind  something  that  had  three  legs,  waving  his  hands. 
Looking  in  the  direction  that  the  hand  indicated,  he  saw 
another  man  holding  a  flag.  On  the  top  of  these  legs  was 
something  that  glittered  in  the  sun  like  gold.  The  man 
that  stood  behind  it  would  look  down  at  it,  and  then  at  the 
flag.  In  looking  a  little  further  back,  he  saw  ten  or  twelve 
men,  some  of  them. on  horses,  some  with  axes  and  some 
drawing  a  long,  light  chain.  He  was  amazed  at  the  sight, 
not  knowing  whether  to  hide  or  run.  He  heard  a  slight 
noise  behind  him,  and  turning  around,  stood  face  to  face  to 
some  kind  of  a  being.  He  knew  not  what  it  was.  It  looked 
just  like  a  man,  only  it  was  jet  black,  curly  hair  and  pearly- 
white  teeth.  He  thought  it  must  be  the  devil  that  his  moth- 
er had  told  him  about,  but  he  failed  to  see  the  forked  tail. 
In  his  fright  he  sprang  from  the  log  and  ran  towards  the 
white  man. 

Indian  !     Indian  !  cried  the  devil  behind  him. 

Instantly  the  whole  party  was  in  commotion,  and  the  men 
on  the  horses  raised  their  guns. 

Who  ?  Where  ?  What  is  it  ?  cried  the  man  at  the  three 
legged  object. 


2iJ 

Here,  Massa,  here  !  cried  the  black,  at  the  same  time   seiz- 
ing Walter  by  the  coat. 

This  soon  brought  the  whole  party  to  the  spot   where    the 
negro  held  vValter.     Webb  saw  at  once  that  his  supposed  en- 
emy wnf  but  the  stripling  of  a  boy,  and  a  white  boy  at  that. 
Who  is  it  with  you  ?  pleasantly  askei  Webb. 
No  one;    Waiter  replied  in  a  mild  and  mannerly  way. 
No  one  ?  said  Webb,  tha  t  can't    be,    boy,     you    are    fifty 
miles  from  any  habitation,  you  arc  a  stool  pigeon  for  the  In- 
dians! 

Stool  pigeon,  sir  ?    I  don't  knew    what    stool    pigeon  is,    I 
have  not  seen  any  Indians. 
Are  you  alone  ? 
Yes. 

Where  is  your  father  ? 

I  haven't  got  any  ;  he  was  drowned  yesterday  in  the  Calli- 
coon. 

Webb  at  once  became  interested  in  the  boy,  and  said  : 
Sit  down,  and  tell  us  all  about  your  father  and  mother,and 
how  they  came  to  get  drowned. 

Walter  began  where  his  recollections  commenced,  and 
gave  a  history  of  his  family;  where  they  came  from  ;  their 
living  on  the  Callicoon  ;  the  water-spout  ;  the  breaking  of 
the  beaver  dam  ;  his  parents  being  hurled  into  the  mad, 
\vild  Callicoon,  and  closed  his  narative  with  the  description 
of  his  enconter  with  the  bear  and  panther. 

Webb,  though  of  a  rough  exterior,  had  a  kind  and  sympa- 
thizing heart. 

I  believe  you,  boy,  I  believe  every  word  you  say,  and  prom- 
ise you  a  protector  until  a  better  one  is  provided.  When  did 
you  have  anything  to  eat  last  ? 


24 

Nothing,  sir  since  yesterday  morning. 

Here  Sambo,  (addressing  the  black,)  said  Webb,  get  this 
boy  something  to  eat. 

That  I  will,  in  right  quick  time,  too,  replied  the  black.  If 
dat  dere  little  kid  eat  as  fast  as  he  run,  he  git  on  de  outside 
of  a  bear  in  no  time.  Golly,  Massa,  he  jump  twenty — thirty 
— forty  feet  in  no  time.  He  took  me  for  de  debble.  O  gol- 
ly !  golly  !  I  wonder  if  I  look  like  his  satanic  majesty  ?  [ 
suppose  so;  ha!  ha  !  ha  !  Well,  come  dis  way,  buck;  I'll 
stuff  dat  skin  of  yours  so  full  dat  it  bust;  Golly,  no  dinner, 
no  supper,  no  breakfast.  I  kinder  guess  dat  his  belly  feels 
kinder  lank. 

Stop  that  jargon,  said  Webb.  The  boy  can't  live  on  nig- 
ger talk.  Take  him  to  the  kitchen. 

Yes,  Massa,  I'll  take  him  to  the  kitchen,  in  right  quick 
time,  and  show  him  to  de  cook.  Come  along  buck. 

That  ain't  his  name,  said  Webb.     Call  him  Walter. 

Come  along  den  Water  dis  way.  Dis  darkey  stuff  your 
skin  like  a  Christmas  turkey.  Come  den,  quick,  quick 
come. 

Sambo  lead  the  way,  and  Walter  followed.  After  going 
about  a  mile,  they  came  to  a  small  flat  ina  hollow,near  which 
was  a  spring  of  cool  watei. 

Near  the  spring  was  a  large  log  house.  Sambo  conducted 
Walter  into  the  house,  and  spread  before  him  venison  and 
corn  bread,  which  he  devoured  with  an  appetite.  Then  they 
returned  to  the  surveying  party. 

Now,  said  Webb,  can  you  find  the  way  back  to  where  you 
shot  the  panther  ? 

Oh  yes,  replied  the  boy.  It  is  just  down  the  hill  there, 
can't  you  hear  the  water  roar? 


25 

The  whole  party  now  started,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  at 
the  scene  of  the  encounter.  There  laid  the  panther,the  larg- 
est  of  his  species. 

Webb  set  the  men  at  work  to  take  off  his  hide,  while  he 
and  Walter  went  to  see  the  destruction  caused  by  the  water- 
spout the  day  before.  Not  a  vestige  of  either  house  was  to 
be  seen.  The  beaver  dam  was  dry,  the  cleared  land  was 
washed  and  gone  down  the  stream.  A  cat,  and  a  cat  only, 
was  left  to  tell  the  tale. 

On  a  tree,  standing  on  a  small  island  formed  by  the  wash- 
out of  the  day  before,  lay  a  large  white  cat.  The  sight  of 
this  cat  brought  to  Walter  recollections  of  the  great  loss  he 
had  sustained,  and  the  tears  rolled  clown  his  cheeks. 

Was  that  your  cat  ?  remarked  Webb. 

Yes,  sobbingly  replied  Walter.  That  is  my  Amy.  Kit ! 
kit  !  kit  !  Come  here. 

The  cat  heard  and  recognized  the  voice,  and  a  moment  lat- 
er, was  in  Walter's  arms.  He  fondled  her  and  talked  to 
her  in  such  a  way  that  Webb  was  convinced  that  there  was 
something  besides  the  cat  that  affected  him. 

Never  mind,  my  boy,  you  may  take  the  cat  with  you  to  the 
camp  and  keep  it  for  a  playmate.  I  suppose  that  this  was 
the  only  thing  you  had  to  love  in  your  wilderness  home? 

No,  replied  Walter.  I  had  another  playmate  that  I  loved, 
and  the  cat  is  named  after  her.  Yes,  Amy  Powers  was  just 
as  pretty,  good  and  kind  as  this  kitten. 

And  then  he  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  was  broke. 

I  think,  said  Webb,  that  as  young  as  you  are,  that  Cupid 
has  shot  an  arrow  that  has  lodged  where  you  will  never  get; 
rid  of  it. 

Cupid  ?  said  Walter,  I  dqn't  know  what  Cupid  is, 


26 

I  mean,  remarked  Webb,  that  you  have  fallen  in  love  with 
the  namesake  of  your  cat ;  and  if  she  was  as  lovingjgcntleand 
confiding  as  the  kitten  you  hold  in  yourarms,you  are  not  tole 
blamed. 

It  is  a  great  deal  to  have  the  kitten,  she  will  always  keep 
my  memory  f'-esh  for  Amy. 

Never  mind,  boy;  you  will  grow  older,  and  will  find  soir.e 
other  girl  that  you  will  love,  and  forget  Amy. 

Forget  Amy?  he  replied;  No,  Mr. — .,  I  don't  know  your 
name.  You  don't  know  me.  No,  I  never  will,  I  never  can 
forget  my  Amy.  And  I  here  and  now  swear,  in  the  presence 
of  my  God  and  my  desolate  home,  never  to  forget  her  !  I 
further  swear  never  to  love  another  ! 

Good,  bold  and  generous  boy,  exclaimed  Webb.  You 
know  nothing  of  the  world,  and  but  little  of  yourself. 

I  know  myself  well  enough  to  know  that  I  shall  neye,r  ftr^ 
get  my  first  and  only  love. 

(See  Note  A  iu  Appendi^  ) 

CHAPTER  V, 
Parting  of  Mother  and  Child. 


We  now  return  to  Quick's  cabin,  on  the  Shinglekill.  His 
residence  was  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware,  at,  or  near  Mil- 
ford  and  the  cabin  on  the  Shinglekill  was  temporally  used 
during  the  trapping  season.  The  Senior  Quick  was  a  '  Hol- 
lander, and  had  settled  at  Milford  while  the  country  was  a 
howling  wilderness.  He  had  three  brothers,  and  from  them 
has  sprung  the  numerous  Quick  families  in  the  Delaware 
Valley,  and  he  was  the  father  of  Tom  Quick,  one  of  the  he, 
roes  of  our  Ule. 


87 

This  cabin  in  which  they  carried  Amy.  and  her  mother, 
was  a  log  structure,  in  the  midst  of  a  Butternut  grove.  The 
outside  of  the  house  was  nearly  covered  by  the  skins  of  wild 
beasts,  hung  there  to  dry.  Suspended  on  poles  and  trees, 
were  sculls  of  bears,  panthers,  deer  and  other  animals,  in 
which  the  birds  built  their  nests  and  reared  their  young.  Up 
the  bank,  and  between  the  house  and  the  Hawk's  Nest,  was  a 
cleared  field,  on  which  they  raised  corn. 

Entering  the  house,we  are  struck  at  the  order  and  decorum 
everywhere  seen.  The  chimney  is  in  one  end  of  the  house, 
and  consists  of  a  layer  of  red  sand  stone  placed,  against  the 
logs.  There  are  no  jams  to  the  chimney,  and  the  smoke  es- 
capes through  an  opening  in  the  roof.  Hanging  in  crotches, 
on  the  side  of  the  building,  are  three  smoothly  polished 
guns.  In  one  corner  of  the  room  stands  a  number  of  bows 
and  arrows.  Overhead,  tied  to  the  rafters,  hang  numerous 
traps,  and  all  about  the  house  hangs  bags  containing  dried 
berries,  herbs,  etc.  On  a  small  table  lays  the  family  bible, 
bound  with  iron  straps.  On  one  side  of  the  chimney  is  a 
closet  containing  the  dishes  and  cooking  utensils.  On  the 
back  side  of  the  room  are  four  bunks  in  which  to  sleep.  The 
end  of  the  room,  opposite  the  fire-place,is  partitioned  off,  and 
furnished  with  a  bed  made  of  skins  and  furs. 

It  was  in  this  room  the  mother  and  child  were  laid. 

Heat  some  stones,  said  the  elder  Quick.  And  you  boys  go 
to  rubbing  them.  We  must  start  the  blood. 

Betsy  soon  had  a  number  of  warm  stones  wrapped  in  furs 
in  the  bed,  while  the  boys  applied  themselve.5  vigorously  to 
rubbing  their  bodies. 

The  child  soon  gave  evidence  of  restored  animation. 
Breathing  became  perceptable.  The  muscles  contracted,  and 
her  eyes  partly  opened.  Then  came  a  convulsion  which 
sh,ook  her  whole  frame.  Water  and  froth  ran  from  her  mouth. 


28 

That  will  do  buys,  said  the  old  man.  Let  her  lay  quiet 
now.  She  will  soon  be  herself  again. 

Rolla  had  been  an  anxious  spectator  of  the  scene  we  have 
described  Standing  with  his  fore-feet  on  the  foot  of  the 
bed  looking"  intently  into  Amy's  face,  he  gave  three  sup. 
pressed  barks. 

The  child  is  safe,    exclaimed  the  old  man. 

Just  then  Rolla  gave  a  mournful  whine. 

But,  continued  the  old  man,  the  mother  will  never  see  the 
sun  set  again.  The  dog,  by  some  intutive  knowledge,  sees 
life  for  the  child,  but  death  for  the  mother. 

Then  came  a  moment  of  suspense.  The  house  was  as  si- 
lent  as  the  grave, and  all  present  stood  gazing  on  the  marble 
forms  before  them.  A  flush  came  into  Amy's  face.  Her 
eyes  open. 

Ma-ma— Rol—Rol  ! 

And  again  all  was  silent. 

She  speaks,  said  Betsy,  and  her  first  thought  is  of  her 
mother. 

And  her  second  of  her  dog    said  Tom. 

She  now  began  to  moan  and  talk,  but  not  in  a  way  that 
coiild  be  understood.  At  length  her  words  were  connected, 
but  it  was  evident  that  she  was  delerious. 

Oh  !  Walt.  Do  come  and  save  your  little  Amy — River — 
big  raft — pa-pa — drowned — hold  her  Rolla,  hold  her  ! 

Thus  she  continued  to  rave  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
fell  into  a  sweet,  natural  sleep. 

In  about  half  an  hour  her  eyes  opened,  and  she  raised  up 
and  gazed  about  her  in  astonishment. 

Where  is  mother?     Where  am  I  ?     Where  is  Rolla  ? 

Rolla  heard  her,  and  bounded  on  the  bed,  Amy  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 


Good  Rolla  !  she  exclaimed;  Save  mother — pull  her  out  of 
the  water — drag  her  on  the  raft ! 

Drake  put  out  his  hand,  as  if  in  the  act  of  pulling  the  dog 
away. 

No,  no,  boy,  let  the  dog  alone.  That  is  nature's  own  med- 
icine. That  is  more  soothing  than  a  canoe-load  of  the  white 
man's  pills.  The  girl  requires  quiet.  Let  the  dog  caress  her. 

This  was  said  by  a  new  comer,  in  a  sweet  and  sympathiz- 
ing voice,  by  an  old  man  by  the  name  of  Wilson,  (Cahoon- 
shee,)  of  whom  I  shall  speak  hereafter. 

In  the  meantime,  all  the  arts  known  to  the  white  man  or 
Indian  were  resorted  to,  to  revive  the  mother.  They  had,  in 
a  measure,  restored  circulation,  but  the  breathing  was  ac- 
complished with  difficulty,  and  she  showed  no  signs  of  con- 
sciousness. And  thus  the  day  passed  in  suspense. 

The  sun  had  just  hid  itself  behind  the  western  hills,  as 
Amy  aroused,  and  raised  herself  up  in  the  bed.  Rolla  gave 
three  soft,  pleasant  barks,  and  leaped  on  the  bed  and  off 
again,  and  run  out  of  the  house,  and  in  again,  jumping  onto, 
and  barking  at  every  one,  seemingly  to  express  his  joy  at 
Amy's  recovery. 

Where  am  I  ?  she  said,  looking  around  the  room. 

Among  friends,    replied  Wilson. 

Where  is  mother  ? 

Here,  child,  but  unable  to  speak. 

And  Rolla;  where  is  he  ? 

Rolla,  hearing  his  name  pronounced,  answered  in  person, 
giving  a  bark  of  jo)~,  bounded  on  the  bed. 

Amy  now  seemed  to  be  herself  again,  but  it  was  thought 
best  not  to  question  her  until  she  had  fully  recovered  her 
strength.  She  was  taken  out  in  the  shade  of  the  butternuts, 
where  we  will  leave  her  and  Rolla  for  the  present. 

During  this  time  the  mother  lay  in  a  semi-concious  con- 
dition. At  times  she  showed  signs  of  reason,  but  was  too 
weak  to  speak.  The  muscles  of  her  mouth  moved,  but  only 
a  groan  was  heard. 


30 

Thus  the  night  passed  and  the  gray  mist  of  morning  is  ap- 
pearing. She  opened  her  eyes  and  made  a  motion  with  her 
hand.  In  an  instant  Wilson  was  at  her  side. 

What  do  you  want  good  woman  ?  Who  do  you  want  to 
see  ? 

Instantly  the  whole  household,  including  Amy  and  Rolla, 
surrounded  the  bed.  The  mother  looked  first  at  one,  then  at 
the  other,  and  then  cast  her  eyes  heavenward,  and  dropped 
back  on  her  pillow. 

Blind  !  said  Wilson. 

Oh   mother,  dear  mother,  look  at  Amy  !  the  child  cried. 

Now  the  mother  shows  signs  of  returning  strength.and  was 
again  raised  up  in  bed,  and  as  before,  apparently  looked  to 
see  those  she  could  hear  but  could  not  see.  There  was  no 
light  in  her  eyes.  She  makes  an  attempt  to  speak,  but  her 
words  are  unintelligible.  She  trie.s  again  ; 

A— A— Amy- 
Here,  dear  mother;  here  I  am. 
Kiss  me,  kiss  me  Amy. 

She  took  hold  of  Amy's  hand  and  tried  to  speak  again. 
What  is  it  mother  ?    What  do  you  want  to  say  ? 
Rol— Rol— Rolla  ! 

Before  the  words  were  finished,  Rolla  spreng  to  the  bed 
arid  placed  his  fore-feet  on  her  bosom. 

See,  mother,  Rolla  is  here;  said  Amy. 

A  whine,  accompanied  by  a  mild  bark  escaped  from  the 
dog.  The  mother  understood  by  that,that  the  dog  was  there. 
Then  tciking  Rolla  by  the  fore-paw,  she,  with  a  great  effort 
laid  it  in  Amy's  hand.  Castingher  sightless  eyes  toward  heav- 
en, she  remained  motionless  for  a  few  moments,  evidently  in 
prayer.  A  tremor  came  over  her.  A  struggle  ensued. 

Nearly  gone,  said  Wilson. 

Her  eyes  open  again.  Now  they  can  see  and  have  the  ex- 
pression of  intelligence.  A  silence  ensues.  She  speaks; 


31 

Amy — Rolla —  and  drops  on  her  pillow  dead. 
Rolla  seemed  to  understand  his  mistress's  last  wish    and 
kissed  the  child  that  held  its  paw. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Cahoonshee. 


I  will  now  briefly  relate  the  history  of  the  man  that  was 
so  abruptly  introduced  to  our  readers  a  few  pages  back,  and 
who  was  an  interested  spectator  at  the  death  scene  we  have 
described. 

Cahoonshee  was  reputed  to  be  seven  feet  in  hight,  with  a 
large  powerful  frame.  At  a  glance  it  was  plainly  to  be  seen 
that  he  was  the  true  type  of  the  Indian.  High  forehead,  ex- 
tended cheek  bones,  and  a  quick,  twinkling  eye.  At  the 
time  we  introduce  him,  he  has  passed  his  three-score-and- 
ten  years.  His  hair  is  as  white  as  snow;  his  voice  low  ;  his 
words  few,  and  to  the  point.  He  belonged  to  a  small  tribe 
of  the  Delaware's  called  Cahoonshees.  When  a  small  boy  he 
was  captured  and  taken  to  England.  While  there,  he  was 
painted  in  true  Indian  style,  decked  out  with  feathers  in  the 
most  fantastic  way,  and  carried  around  the  country  to  be 
gazed  at.  This  was  repulsive  to  Cahoonshee,  but  for  a  long" 
time  he  could  not  help  himself.  At  length  it  was  resolved 
to  educate  him  for  an  interpreter  and  missionary.  Cahoon- 
shee proved  to  be  an  apt  pupil,  and  in  the  end  a  good 
scholar.  In  a  few  years  he  mastered  the  English  language 
and  acquired  a  fair  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences  of 
that  day.  Then  he  returned  to  his  native  land,  with  the  un- 
derstanding on  his  part  and  on  the  part  of  the  English  that 
he  was  to  remain  in  their  employ  and  act  as  their  agent  and 
interpreter;  and  probably  Cahoonshee  intended  to  abide  by 
this  understanding  when  he  left  London. 

They  landed  at  Manhatten  in  the  evening,  and  it  was  diffi- 
cult for  the  Captain  of  the  Reindeer  to  pursuade  him  to  wait 
until  next  morning  before,  he  started,  for  t.h.e  rivers  and 


32 

mountains  of  his  childhood.  Before  the  sun  had  risen  the 
next  morning',  he  was  landed  at  Weehawken,  and  started  on 
foot  to  climb  the  Palisades.  Reaching  the  summit,  he  cast 
his  eye  back  at  the  deep  waters  of  the  Hudson,  and  men- 
tally resolved  never  to  cross  it  again.  As  the  earth  was  be- 
coming enshrouded  in  the  mantle  of  night  on  the  second 
day,  he  struck  the  waters  of  the  Delaware.  During  his  jour- 
ney from  the  Hudson  to  the  Delaware,  he  was  made  to  feel 
s.'id.  The  ravages  of  Christianity  was  to  be  seen  at  every 
step.  The  Indian  wigwam  had  dissappeared,  and  the  white 
man's  house  had  taken  its  place.  The  white  man  had  appro- 
priated the  land,  and  the  Indian  had  gone — where  ?  Echo 
answers  where  ! 

He  stood  on  the  bank  of  the  river  in  silent  meditation,  liv- 
ing over  again  the  days  of  his  boyhood.  When  he  hunted 
in  these  mountains,  and  fished  in  these  streams,  when  his 
quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  the  canoe  padclle.  Looking  in 
the  direction  of  the  sound,  he  saw  a  canoe  swiftly  approach- 
ing, containing  but  a  single  individual. 

The  canoe  was  close  to  the  shore  where  Cahoonshee  stood. 
He  was  at  a  loss  whether  to  hide  or  make  himself  known. 
.He  judged  that  the  canoe  contained  a  white  man,  but  the 
evening  had  so  far  advanced  that  a  gloom  passed  over  the 
waters. 

Friend  !  said  Cahoonshee  in  the  Delaware  tongue. 

The  man  in  the  canoe  dropped  his  paddle  and  seized  his  gun, 
then,  looking  toward  the  shore,  saw  a  tall,  athletic  man,  un- 
armed, with  the  palm  of  his  hand  extended.  The  man  in 
the  canoe,  seeing  this  sign  of  amity,  advanced  to  the  shore, 
and  saw  that  the  stranger  was  an  Indian  in  white  man's 
dress. 

Delaware?  exclaimed  Quick  in  English, 


Yes.  replied  Cahobhshee  in  the  same  language.  Delaware 
in  search  of  has  old  home  and  friends  in  the  mountains. 

My  brother  speaks  like  a  white  man,  but  looks  like  an  In- 
dian; said  Quick. 

I  am  no  white  man,  I  am  an  Indian,  all  Indian.  Not  a 
drop  of  white  man's  blood  runs  in  my  viens.  I  am  Cahoon- 
shee. 

Cahoonshee  !  exclaimed  Quick.  They  were  once  a  power- 
ful and  a  brave  tribe,  •  but  the  last  of  them  have  passed 
away.  Their  lodges  have  rotted  down;  their  fields  are  cov- 
ered with  thorns  and  briars,  and  their  braves  have  gone  to 
the  spirit-land;  not  one  of  them  is  left;  the  echo  of  their 
voices  are  no  longer  heard  on  the  Steynekill. 

Does  my  brother  know  that  country  ?  asked  Cahoonshee; 
Do  you  know  the  Steynekill  ?  Do  you  know  the  silver  lakes 
and  the  beaver  dams  ? 

Yes,  I  know  them  all.  I  have  traveled  over  the  moun- 
tains, trapped  in  the  rivers  and  fished  in  the  brooks.  But 
there  are  no  Cahoonshees  there  now. 

Where  did  they  go  to  ? 

The  last  of  their  braves  were  scalped  by  the  Salamanqucs 
years  ago,  replied  Quick. 

At  this  disclosure,  Cahoonshee  drew  his  hand  across  his 
eyes  and  remained  motionless.  It  was  evident  that  he  was 
struggling  with  his  feelings.  He  swung  to  and  fro,  like  a 
tree  in  a  gale. 

Did  my  brother  have  kin  with  the  Cahoonshees?  asked 
Quick. 

Yes,  all  my  kin.  Father,  mother,  brother,  sister — I  am 
alone,  not  even  a  brother.  Better  that  I  had  been  there  and 
died  with  them. 


34 

No,  brother,  you  "wrong  the  Great  Spirit,  who  does  all 
things  well.  But  you  have  a  brother,  we  are  all  brothers. 
Come,  Cahoonshee,  go  with  me  to  my  house,  and  to-morrow 
I  will  go  with  you  to  the  grave  of  your  fathers'. 

Cahoonshee  stepped  into  the  canoe,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
landed  at  Milford,  the  home  of  Quick.  Cahoonshee  partook 
of  the  white  man's  hospitality  with  grace  and  ease,  after 
which,  he  related  his  history  from  early  boyhood,  his  cap- 
ture, and  subsequent  voyage  to  England,  his  being  made  a 
show  of  there,  his  education,  and  return  home.  Quick  was 
interested  in  his  history,  but  what  most  interested  him,  was 
the  education  and  manly  appearance  of  his  Indian  guest. 

After  Cahoonshee  had  finished  his  story,  he  placed  his 
hand  to  the  side  of  his  face,  and  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in 
some  deep  study  from  which  Quick  could  not  arouse  him. 

AVill  my  brother  goto  bed  ?  asked  Quick. 

No,  replied  Cahoonshee,  white  man  sleep,  Indian  think. 

At  first  Quick  thought  there  might  be  some  Indian  devil" 
try  behind  all  this  apparent  friendship. 

Indian  sleep,  white  man  guard  the  fire,  replied  Quick. 

Cahoonshee  seemed  to  be  stung  by  this  mistrust. 

Yes,  Indian  go  to  bed,  but  Indian  no  sleep.  Indian  'think 
of  the  Cahoonshees.  Indian  never  see  one  of  his  blood.  Then 
casting  his  eyes  heavenward,  said  : 

White  man  lead.     Indian  follow. 

Quick  raised  a  ladder  that  led,to  the  room  above  and  was 
followed  up  by  Cahoonshee. 

There  brother,  is  a  bed  of  furs  caught  on  the  Steynekill. 
There  you  can  sleep  and  dream. 

At  the  dawn  of  day,  Cahoonshee  and  Quick  were  on  the 
trail  that  leads  to  Peenpack. 


35 

Where  do  you  wish  to  go  first  ?  .asked  Quick. 

To  the  graves  of   my  fathers,  replied  Cahoonshce. 

That  is  at  the  sand  hill,  on  the  east  side  of  the  Neversink, 
near  the  Kingston  trail.  (See  Appendix.) 

From  this  time  until  they  reached  the  sand  hill,  not  a 
word  was  spoken.  The  Tri-States  rock  was  passed,  and  the 
Neversink  Valley  opened  up  before  them,  while  to  the  right 
rose  the  Shawangunk  mountains.  Cahoonshee  wanted  to 
go  to  the  sand  hills  by  a  route  that  no  Indian  would  see 
him. 

There  are  the  graves  of  the  last  of  the  Cahoonshees,  said 
Quick,  pointing. 

Cahoonshee  was  silent  and  meditative.  Before  him  was  to 
be  seen  the  graves  of  his  fathers.  The  river  had  washed  the 
banks,  and  skulks  and  skeletons  were  bleaching  in  the  sun. 
Cahoonshee  picked  up  one  of  the  skulls,  and  peered  into  the 
cavities, from  whence  once  eminated  the  fire  of  intelligence, 
and  was  the  dome  of  thought.  His  frame  shook,  his  eye 
moistened. 

Enough  !  he  said.     Let  us  go. 

The  travelers  pursued  their  way  along  .the  Neversink  un- 
til they  reached  Bash  eskill,  where  they  encamped  for  the 
night.  Scarcely  a  word  passed  between  Cahoonshee  and 
Quick.  Cahoonshee  appeared  to  be  in  a  deep  study,  the 
meaning  of  which,  the  white  man  could  not  fathom.  The 
next  morning  they  crossed  the  river  and  wound  their  way 
along  the  Neversink  for  several  miles,  when  Cahoonshce 
suddenly  exclaimed  : 

Beaver  Dam  !  His  eyes  for  the  first  time  had  fallen  on  a 
spot  that  reminded  him  of  the  days -of  his  boyhood.  It  seem 
ed  to  warm  the  blood  in  his  vicns  and  awaken  long  slumber* 
ing  emotions  that  could  no  longer  be  suppressed, 


u 

Here,  he  exclaimed,  is  where  I  last  saw  my  kindred  ;  here 
is  where  my  mother  last  smiled  on  me  ;  here  is  where  my 
father  patted  me  on  the  headend  said  :  "  Be  a  good  brave, 
and  when  I  am  gone  to  the  Spirit  World,  govern  the  Cahoon- 
shees  wisely/'  Let  us  go. 

Then  they  struck  northwesterly  across  Handy  Hill  to  the 
head  waters  of  the  Steynekill  and  encamped  for  the  night. 
The  next  night  brought  them  to  Mongaup  Falls,  and  from 
there  they  went  to  Bushkill  Falls.  Then  they  crossed  the 
ridge,  and  struck  the  Steynekill  near  the  Heart  Rock.  This 
was  the  original  camping  ground  of  the  Cahoonshees.  Here 
Cahoonshce  recognized  his  old  home,  and  pointed  out  places 
that  were  of  interest  to  him  in  his  boyish  days.  From  there 
they  went  to  Hawk's  Nest,  and  then  to  the  Quick  cabin  on 
tlie  Shinglekill.  After  supper,  while  sitting  in  the  room, 
lighted  by  the  blaze  of  a  pine  knot,  Cahoonshee  became  more 
communicative. 

When  'does  my  brother  return  toManhatten?  asked  Quick. 

Never,  replied  Cahoonshee.  White  man  expects  me  there, 
white  man  wants  Indian  to  help  white  man  cheat  Indian, 
white  man  great  and  powerful,  he  take  Indian's  land,  and 
tell  Indian  to  go  west.  Yes  Indian  will  be  driven  west,  un- 
til the  great  Pacific  swallows  them  up,  Indian  become  ex- 
tinct, white  man  own  all,  Indian  die,  white  man  live  for- 
ever. No  !  No  !  Cahoonshee  take  no  part  in  this.  English 
educate  me,  English  make  me  wise,  yet  English  care  noth- 
ing for  Indian.  English  have  a  God,  Indian,  the  Great 
vSpirit.  English  God  help  white  man  rob  Indian.  English 
send  missionary  to  convert  Indian,  Missionary  in  the  cabin, 
fire-water  in  the  hold.  vVhite  man  no  practice  what  they 
preach.  Indian  true  t-- the  Great  Spirit.  White  man  all 
self.  White  man  wise,  Indian  supersticious,  Indian  believe 
in  great  medicine  man,  white  man  in  money.  'No,  Cahoon- 


37 

shee  will  never  return  to  Manhatten.  Cahoonshee  remain 
here  until  the  Great  Spirit  calls  him  home.  Cahoonshee  re- 
turn to  the  scenes  of  his  chiMhood  on  the  Steynekill  and  live 
alone  until  his  dust  unites  with  that  of  his  kindred.  Think 
not,  white  man,  that  I  am  an  enemy  of  your  race.  No,  I 
am  their  friend.  I  bow  to  the  will  of  the  Almighty.  The 
education  I  received  from  the  white  man,  made  me  more 
wise,  yet  more  miserable.  I  see  that  the  Indian  must  go 
down,  while  on  their  ruins  the  whites  will  raise  a  mighty 
nation.  But  between  us,  brother,  there  must  be  no  enmity. 
Let  us  smoke  the  pipe  of  peace,and  let  this  be  the  pledge  be- 
tween us  :  As  long  as  the  grass  grows  on  these  hills,  or  the 
waters  runs  in  these  rivers. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
The    House   of  Death. 


We  will  now  return  to  the  house  of  death,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Shinglekill.  There  lay  the  marble  form  of  Mary  Pow- 
ers, the  mother  of  Amy.  She  was  lovely  in  life  ;  in  death,  a 
model  for  an  artist.  Her  countenance  would  indicate  that 
she  died  in  a  peaceful  state  of  mind,  and  perfectly  resigned 
to  the  fate  that  had  overtaken  her.  At  the  head  of  the  bed 
stood  Amy.crying  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  At  her  side, 
stood  her  faithful  dog,  lapping  her  hand  and  rubbing  his 
head  against  her  seemingly  trying  to  console  her  for  the  loss 
she  had  sustained  in  the  death  of  her  mother.  Tom  and 
Drake  were  interested  spectators.  This  was  the  first  natural 
death  that  either  of  them  had  ever  witnessed.  The  senior 
Quick  stood  in  the  door,  with  his  back  to  the  corpse,  appar- 
ently much  affected,  CahQcmshee  stood  at  the  foot  of  the 


38 

bed,  looking  at  the  face  of  the  dead.  Betsy  gently  led  Amy 
out  of  doors,  and  taking  a  seat  under  the  butternuts,  at- 
tempted to  console  her. 

Don't  cry  child,  it  is  God  that  has  called  your  mother 
home,  and  He  has  promised  to  be  a  Father  to  the  father- 
less. 

But  I  have  no  mother  now,  said  Amy. 

Yes,  dear  child,  I  will  be  your  mother,and  Tom  and  Drake 
shall  be  your  brothers. 

Let  the  girl  vent  her  feelings,  said  Cahoonshee,  who  un- 
perceived  had  approached.  Let  her  mourn  her  loss.  Let 
her  learn  from  this  how  unceartain  all  things  are. 

God  did  it,  said  Betsy.  He  does  all  things  well-  He  did 
it  for  the  good  of  this  child: 

That  may  be,  replied  Cahoonshee.  Your  old  Bible  says  so. 
It  speaks  in  thunder  tones,  that  God  works  in  a  mysterious 
way  his  wonders  to  perform.  But  the  girl  cannot  understand 
that.  She  can't  understand  why  in  a  day  she  is  deprived  of 
both  her  parents,  and  cast  among  strangers  in  this  wilder- 
ness world.  Blame  her  you  must  not — console  her  you  can- 
not. Older  and  wiser  heads  cannot  reconcile  these  things. 
But  we  must  prepare  to  bury  her.  We  can  give  the  mother 
a  Christian  burial,  aud  then  take  care  of  her  orphan  child. 

A  grave  was  dug  on  a  rise  of  ground  on  top  of  the  river 
bank.  The  body  was  wrapped  in  furs,  and  this  little  group 
of  mourners  walked  to  the  house  prepared  for  all  living. 
Cahoonshee  and  the  Senior  Quick  led  the  way  ;  Tom  and 
Drake  followed,  bearing  the  corpse  on  a  roughly  construct- 
ed litter  ;  then  came  Amy,  Betsy  walking  on  one  side  of  her 
and  Rolla  on  the  other.  The  grave  is  reached,  the  body  is 
lowered  and  covered  with  green  boughs,  and  Tom  and  Drake 
are  about  to  perform  the  last  offices  to  the  dead,  when  Rolla 
raised  his  head,  looked  intently,  whined,  and  sprang  toward 
a  tree.  Instantly  all  eyes  are  turned  in  that  direction, 


39 

'Walt !  Walt!  passionately  exclaimed  Amy,  there  is  my  Walt  ! 
Come  Walt  !  Come  and  see  Amy  !  Father  dead — mother 
dead — none  l^ft  but  Walt  and  Rolla.  Come  kitty — kitty, 
co  ne  to  Amy  ! 

There  in  a  tree  sat  the  white  cat  that  had  been  seen  on  the 
raft,  but  owing  to  the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  had  been 
forgotten.  Hearing  her  name  called,  she  slowly  came  down 
the  tree. 

Thu.-,  a::o!hcr  was  ackle.l  to  the  list  of  mourners.  The 
grave  was  filled,  the  mound  erected,  when  Cahoonshee 
said  : 

This  is  nature's  decree.  "  Dust  thou  art,  and  unto  dust 
thou  sh-alt  return."  Let  us  return  to  the  house.  And  setting 
the  example  he  walked  away. 

But  Amy  refused  to  go.  Throwing  herself  on  her  mother's 
grave,  she  cried  : 

Oh  !  my  own  dear  mother,  I  cannot,  I  will  not  leave  you  ! 
Oh  !  let  me  die  here;  let  me  lay  by  your  side.  Who  will 
love  and  look  after  me  now  ? 

Rolla  looked  up  into  her  face— the  cat  mewed  and  nestled 
more  closely  to  her  bo^om. 

Leave  her  to  her  own  thoughts,  and  that  of-  her  friends, 
said  Cahoonshee  looking  back. 

But  Drake  lingered.  The  scene  put  him  in  mind  that  he 
too  once  had  a  mother.  That  he  too  had  been  torn  from  her. 
That  he  too,  by  circumstances  over  which  he  had  no  control, 
had  been  thrown  among  strangers.  And,  as  he  saw  the  tears 
flow  down  Amy's  cheeks,  moisture  came  in  his  own 
eyes. 

tome  Amy,  come  with  me.  I  will  be  your  brother  and 
friend. 

Amy  raised  her  eyes  to  those  of  her  friend  and  said  : 


40 

Brother,  you  are  good  to  think  of  me — you  are  good  to 
promise  to  look  after  me.  But  who  can  look  after  me  like 
my  own  dear  mother  that  is  now  buried  out  of  my  sight  ? 

Yes,  replied  Drake,  I  trust  she  is  in  the  heaven  that  Ca- 
hoonshee  and  Betsy  talks  about.  But  I  don't  know  much 
about  such  things.  1  never  had  any  mother  to  tell  me  about 
God  and  heaven. 

But  Drake,  you  had  a  mother,  and  if  she  was  a  good  moth- 
er, she  would  have  told  you  all  about  the  bible  and  God.  My 
mother  used  to  read  to  me  how  God  made  the  world  in  six 
days,  and  everything  there  was  in  it.  That  people  lived  in 
a  big  garden,  and  were  very  good  and  happy.  Then  they 
got  to  doing  naughty  things,  and  God  made  it  rain  very  hard 
and  the  people  were  drowned,  all  except  one  family,  and 
they  escaped  in  the  ark.  I  suppose  that  itwas  just  such  a 
big  rain  that  came  on  the  Callicoon  and  drowned  father  and 
mother.  But  they  wan't  bad,  and  I  don't  see  what  he  want- 
ed to  drown  them  for. 

This  was  a  subject  that  Drake  knew  but  little  about,  and 
he  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  that  would  be  consoling  to 
the  girl.  But  at  last  he  said  ; 

Cahoonshee,  the  big  Indian,  will  tell  you  all  about  those 
things.  He  knows.  He  has  crossed  the  water  in  a  big  can- 
oe. He  studies  books.  Let  us  go  to  the  house  and  talk  with 
him. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Cahoonshee  on  the  Origin  of  Man. 

At  the  close  of  Chapter  VI,  we  left  Quick  and  Cahoonshee 
conversing  by  the  light  of  a  pine  knot  fire  at  Quick's  cab'n 
on  the  Shinglekill.  Here  they  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace,and 
pledged  to  each  other  eternal  friendship.  During  the  night 


41 

it  was  arranged  that  the  next  morning  they  would  go  to  the 
Heart  Rock,  on  the  Steynekill,and  erect  a  cabin  for  Cahoon- 
shee.  The  cabin  was  built  a  few  rods  from  the  Steneykill 
brook,  near  a  spring.  At  this  place  Cahoonshee  spent  part 
of  his  time,  and  the  balance  at  Quick's.  Thus,  a  mutual 
friendship  was  established  between  the  white  man  and  In- 
dian that  lasted  through  life. 

Cahoonshee  keenly  felt  the  depredation  of  his  people. 
The  education  he  had  received  in  Europe  had  swept  from 
his  mind  the  Indian  supersticions  that  were  cherished  and 
practiced  by  his  fathers.  He  believed  that  all  European  na- 
tions were  combined  to  drive  the  Indian  from  the  forest  and  ap- 
propriate the  land  to  themselves.  Yet  he  held  to  the  religion 
of  his  fathers,  really  seeing,  no  difference-between  thu  white 
man's  God  and  the  Indian's  Great  Spirit.  He  believed  in  a 
firsi.  cause.  This  cause  began  to  operate  at\  the  beginning  of 
time.  That  time  began  when  matter  began  to  move.  He 
believed  that  this  first  cause  was  an  intelligent  cause.  He 
ignored  nothingness — or  rather  claimed  that  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  nothing.  He  rejected  the  common  term  of 
Spirit,  and  advocated  that  a  Spirit  was  an  actual  entity,  al- 
though as  invisable  as  air  or  gas.  That  this  Spirit,  this  en- 
tity was  substance,  although  it  could  neither  be  seen,  heard 
or  felt.  That  thL  entity  possessed  certain  attributes,  among 
which  were  power,  plan  and  design. 

The  reader  will  percieve  that  such  a  man,  with  such  a 
mind,  having  the  exalted  views  of  Cahoonshee,  would  not 
feel  at  home  with  either  white  man  or  Indian.  He  was 
ahead  of  the  age,and  saw  in  the  dim  future  the  extinction  of 
his  race.  His  tribe  was  already  extinct  except  himself.  He 
believed  that  the  merciless  white  would  continue  to  drive 
the  powerless  Indian  west,  until  the  bones  of  hjs  race  would 
bleach  on  the  western  slope.,  and  be  washed  by  the  Pacific. 

i 


42 

It  was  for  these  reasons  that  he  wished  to  return  to  the 
seenes  of  his  childhood,  and  spend  the  rest  of  his  days  in 
comparative  solitude. 

Yet  he  had  one  idea,  and  that  idea  was  to  acquire  and  im- 
part knowledge.  But  the  world  was  not  prepared  to  listen 
to  such  depth  of  thought. 

He  resolved  at  death  to  leave  one  pupil  behind.  That  pu- 
pil should  be  a  white  man.  That  man  should  be  Charles 
Drake.  That  he  had  succeeded,  in  a  measure,  is  evident 
from  the  conversation  Drake  and  Tom  had  at  the  Lifting 
Rocks,  as  narrated  in  Chapter  III.  His  mode  of  instruction 
was  in  the  true  Indian  style. 

A  few  evenings  after  Cahoonshee  had  taken  up  his  quar- 
ters in  his  cabin  on  the  Steynekill,  he  and  Drake  were  sit- 
ting together,  when  the  moon  began  to  light  up  the  eastern 
sky.  Drake  watched  it  intently  until  the  full  moon  arooQ 
above  the  horizon. 

Cahoonshee,  he  said,  you  say  that  the  sun  is  a  burning 
mass,  a  liquid  flame,  and  that  it  is  the  heat  from  this  ass, 
that  warms  the  earth.  Is  that  beautiful  moon  also  a  m  of 
fire  ? 

It  is  supposed  not,  replied  Cahoonshee.  We  derive  but  lit- 
tle heat  from  the  moon.  It  has  cooled  off,  and  it  is  only  the 
reflection  of  the  sun  on  that  planet  that  makes  it  appear  so 
bright  to  us. 

You  say  that  it  has  cooled  off.  What  do  you  mean  by 
that  ?  Was  it  once  like  the  sun,  a  blaze  of  fire  ? 

Of  course,  Drake,  no  one  has  ever  been  to  the  moon  to 
make  a  personal  inspection.  Yet  the  wise  men  of  the  east 
think  they  have  good- reasons  for  believing  that  the  moon, 
and  this  earth,  and  all  the  planets  and  stars  we  see  in  the 
heavens,  were  once  a  burning  mass  of  fire,  that  the  moon, 
has  cooled  off,  and  is,  now  a  co]d,  uninhabited  world, 


43 

You  do  not  mean  to  say  that  this  earth  on  which  we  live 
was,  at  one  time  a  seething  mass  of  fire  ? 

I  do  not  mean  to  assert  that,  I  simply  say,  that  by  investi- 
gation, I  am  led  to  believe  that  such  was  the  case. 

Cahoonshee,  where  Jo  you  say  that  man  came  from  ?  and 
what  was  the  reason  for  the  great  difference  bet \vccn  the 
white  man  and  the  Indian  ? 

Ah,  Drake,  you  have  opened  a  subject  that  is  but  little  un- 
derstood, and  one  that  I  am  not  capable  of  satisfactorily  an- 
swering'. Yet,  I  will  give  you  my  views. 

Betsy's  bible  gives  an  account  of  the  creation  of  man. 
That  God  made  him  from  the  dust  of  the  earth,  and  in  His 
own  image.  But  yon  should  understand  that  this  is  the 
white  man's  bible,  and  in  it  the  Indians  are  called  heathens. 
But  the  Indian's  bible  is  much  older,  and  plainer  to  be 
read. 

It  is   A  attire's  book. 

The  rocks,  rivers  and  mountains  are  its  chapters.  Beasts, 
birds  and  reptiles  are  its  verses,  and  the  Great  Spirit  is  its 
author.  And  within  this  book  will  be  found  all  that  does  or 
ever  did  exist.  The  constituent  parts  are  the  mineral,  ani- 
mal and  vegetable  kingdoms  of  the  world.  Each  has  within 
itself  a  principle  of  organic  life,  but  of  itself  cannot  produce 
either  animal  or  vegetable  life,  but  a  combination  of  these  el- 
ements, by  a  chemical  process,  known  only  to  nature,  pro- 
duces something  unlike  either  the  constituent  parts. 
Thus  the  principle  the  germ  of  all  animal  and  vegetable  life 
is  contained  in  the  natural  world,  and  it  only  requires  that 
these  different  properties  should  be  combined  in  order  to 
work  out  the  natural  result. 

It  is  done  by  the  same  power  and  upon  the  same  princi- 
ples that  draws  the  apple  to  the  ground,  and  balances  the 
planet  in  its  orbit. 


44 

Thus,  the  origin  of  all  animals  and  vegetables  are  to^be 
found  in  earth,  air  and  water,  and  by  a  combination  of  these 
'properties,  under  favorable  circumstances,  nature's  desired 
result  is  accomplished. 

Therefore,  nature  produces  from  nature  just  what  nature 
requires. 

Tims  we  find  that  at  this  day,  seed,  dug  thousands  of  f  jet 
beneath  the  earth,  sprout,  grow  and  bring  forth  fruit  and 
vegetation  unlike  any  that  have  grown  before.  While  buried 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  there  was  no  opportunity  for  de- 
velopement,  no  opportunity  for  chemical  combination.  But 
when  brought  in  contact  with  the  rays  of  the  sun,  the  soil 
of  the  earth  and  the  gases  of  the  air,  the  life  principle  with- 
in the  seed  springs  forth,  and  it  becomes  a  beautiful  flower 
or  an  animal — perhaps  a  man.  It  is  either  vegetable  or  ani- 
mal. Sometimes  both. 

Man  sprang  to  the  earth  in  every  quarter  of  the  glol:e 
where  nature  had  prepared  the  way  and  furni.shed  substance 
on  which  he  could  live.  Thus,  men  in  different  countries 
and  continents  were  different  in  structure,  color  and  lan- 
guage. Thus  I  account  for  the  white,  brown  and  black 
races. 

The  white  man  finds  his  God  and  religion  in  the  bible. 
The  Indian  finds  the  Great  Spirit  in  nature.  The  Indian 
saw  the  wonderful  works  of  nature  going  on  before  his  eyes. 
He  saw  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  and  wondered  from  whence 
came  the  fuel.  He  saw  the  vaulted  heavens  dotted  'A'ith 
stars,  and  wondered  what  held  them  in  their  places.  He 
heard  the  thunder  and  saw  the  lightning  flash,  and  asked 
from  whence  came  this  power.  He  saw  his  fellow  struck, 
>vith  dcath?  and  asked,  •"  is  this  the  last  of  jnan  ? '' 


He  sought  a  solution  of  these  problems  by  studying  llae  na- 
ture of  that  power  that  could  perform  such  great  and  mighty 
works.  And  having  came  to  the  conclusion,  by  a  course  of 
reasoning,  that  this  power  eminated  from  a  source  above  and 
beyond  nature,  he  began  to  worship  that  powcr,and  conceived 
that  this  certain  something  possessed  certain  attributes, 
among  which  was  power,  plan  and  design.  That  if  there 
was  a  design,  then  there  must  have  been  a  designer.  This 
designer  the  Indian  called  the  Great  Spirit. 

Thus,  the  Indian  was  a  religious  animal.  And  here  the 
worship  of  the  Great  Unknown  and  Unseen  commenced.  And 
inasmuch  as  this  unknown  power  was  intanglible  and  could 
not  be  seen,  the  Indians  worshiped  representative  Gods. 
Some  worshiped  the  sun,  some  the  moon,  and  some  the 
monsters  of  the  deep.  The  Indians  worshiped  the  God  of 
the  valley,  the  mountains,  the  rocks  and  rills,  the  rivers  and 
springs. 

Thus  I  have  tried  to  answer  your  question.  At  another 
time  I  will  still  further  unfold  this  mystery. 

CHAPTER  JX. 
The    Teacher    and    Pupil. 

We  now  return  to  Walter  Wallace,  who  we  left  on  the 
banks  of  the  Callicoon  in  company  with  Surveyor  Webb  and 
party.  Webb  soon  discovered  that  Walter  was  a  boy  of 
more  than  ordinary  intelligence,  and  that  his  education  had 
not  been  neglected.  He  could  read  and  write,  and  had  made 
some  advancement  in  arithmetic. 

They  returned  to  camp  about  noon  and  eat  a  hearty  dinner 
to  which  Walter  did  ample  justice,  although  he  had  eaten 
a  late  breakfast. 


46 

Webb  had  been  pondering'  in  his  mind  upon  the  propriety 
of  asking  Walter  to  become  one  of  his  party,  and  retain 
him,  if  possible,  until  the  survey  of  the  Minisink  country 
was  completed.  To  that  end  he  said  to  Walter  : 

Are  you  willing  to  remain  with  me  and  learn  to  survey  ? 

I  am  willing  to  do  anything  I  can,  the  boy  replied,  but  I 
have  not  got  learning  enough  to  read  the  figures  on  that 
thiug. 

But  you  can  learn,  said  Webb. 

I  can  try,  replied  Walter. 

That  is  all  that  is  required,  You  must  try  and  be  accur- 
ate. There  is  no  such  thing  as  good  enough.  Everything- 
must  be  done  accurate. 

I  will  try  my  best,  said  Walter. 

That  is  all  that  is  required,  and  to-night  I  will  give  you  the 
first  lesson. 

After  supper,  Webb  and  Walter  went  to  the  top  of  the 
hill.  The  compass  was  properly  adjusted  on  the  tri-pod. 

Now,  said  Webb, I  want  you  to  level  the  instrument.  That 
is  very  important.  Unless  the  compass  is  exactly  level,  the 
needle  will  not  balance. 

Walter  took  hold  of  one  of  the  sights  and  attempted  to  lev- 
el the  instrument,  but  failed. 

Take  hold  of  both  of  the  sights,  boy,  one  with  your  right 
and  the  other  with  your  left  hand.  Use  force  enough  to 
bring  the  bubbles  in  the  centre  of  the  glasses  forward.  Then 
do  the  same  with  the  cross  level. 

I  see,  said  Walter.  This  glass  levels  it  one  way  and  the 
other  glass  the  other  way,  and  when  the  bubbles  are  in  the 
centre  of  both  glssses,  the  compass  is  level.  Let  me  try  it 
again. 


47 

He  did  so,  and  the  compass  was  level. 

Bravo  !  exclaimed  Webb.  You  have  mastered  one  of  the 
most  difficult  parts  of  the  adjustment  of  the  compass.  Now 
take  hold  of  that  screw  on  the  under  side  with  your  thumb 
and  finger,  and  turn  it  around  until  the  needle  moves, 

He  did  so,  but  excitedly  stepped  back  as  if  he  had  seen 
some  apparition. 

Don't  be  frightened,  boy,  it  will  not  hurt  you. 

It  is  alive  !     It  moves  !  exclaimed  Walter  excitedly. 

You  are  half  right  boy.  It  moves  but  there  is  no  life 
there. 

What  makes  it  move  ?  See  !  It  goes  first  one  way  'and 
then  the  other. 

True,  but  it  will  soon  stop,  said  Webb. 

But  what  makes  it  move?  Black  iron  can't  move  itself. 
Is  there  wheels  in  there  that  moves  it  like  father's  clock  ? 

No.  It  moves  by  the  same  force  that  exists  in  nature, 
which  is  but  little  understood.  We  know  the  fact  that  it 
does  move,  and  that  is  about  all  we  know  about  it. 

But  it  is  boxed  up  tight.  The  hand  can't  touch  it,  or  the 
wind  blow  it.  But  something  makes  it  go.  What  makes  it 
go? 

That  is  a  mystery  I  cannot  fully  explain  myself,but  as  you 
progress,  you  will  learn  as  much  about  it  as  I  know  myself, 
and  I  trust  much  more.  There  are  a  great  many  things  in 
nature  that  are  beyond  the  comprehension  of  man,  that  time 
and  study  will  generally  explain. 

But  it  has  stopped.  It  is  now  perfectly  still.  What  stop- 
ped it?  Father  used  to  say  that  if  a  body  was  put  in  motion, 
it  would  never 'stop  unless  it  came  in  contact  with  some 
other  body,  But  nothing  has  has  come  in  contact  with  it. 


48 

You  are  slightly  mistaken  in  that.  There  is  a  slight  fric- 
tion on  the  centre  pin.  Yet  that  did  not  stop  the  needle. 
The  fact  is,  the  same  invisable  power  that  started  it,  stopped 
it.  But  I  will  explain  more  about  it  when  you  have  learned 
its  uses.  You  will  see  that  on  one  end  is  a  small  copper  wire 
wound  around  it.  That  is  to  balance  the  needle  on  the  cen- 
tre pin,  and  denotes  that  it  is  the  south  end  of  the  needle. 
The  other  end  always  points  to  the  north. 

How  can  you  know  that  ?  asked  the  boy. 

Because  it  always  points  directly,  or  nearly  direct- 
ly towards  the  north  star.  If  the  needle  gets  out  of  order 
it  will  not  point  to  the  star.  Now  turn  the  compass  so  that 
the  needle  will  be  directly  back  of  the  letter  N. 

Walter  did  so. 

I  can't  see  any  star  there.  Now  I  see  hundreds  of  them. 
Which  one  is  the -north  star  ? 

It  is  a  small,  twinkling  star.  It  will  appear  and  then  dis- 
appear. Did  your  father  ever  show  you  the  big  dioper,  or 
great  bear  ? 

Oh,  I  know  the  big  dipper,  but  I  never  saw  the  great 
bear. 

They  are  both  one,  boy.  The  two  lower  stars  are  called 
pointers.  Look  to  where  they  point  to,  and  tell  me  what  you 
see  ? 

I  see  the  small,  twinkling  star  you  spoke  of.  I  will  never 
forget  that.  I  suppose  that  the  pointers  on  the  dipper  always 
point  the  same  way,  and  that  I  can  find  the  star  by  looking 
at  the  pointers  ? 

You  are  partly  right.  You  can  always  find  the  star  by  fol- 
lowing up  the  pointers,  but  the  dipper  changes.  It  is  now 
south-west  of  the  star.  In  two  months  it  will  be  directly  un- 
der it.  Thus  it  continues  to  revolve  around  the  star,  but 
the  pointers  always  point  towards  the  star. 


49 

To  adjust  the  compass  and  take  the  sights  are  simple  and 
easy,  and  I  think  you  will  learn  to  do  it  in  a  few  days  as 
well  as  I  can.  But  you  have  got  to  study  the  books  and 
learn  how  to  calculate  the  area  and  angles.  Now  we  will  re- 
turn to  camp,  and  in  the  morning  you  can  set  the  com- 
pass on  a  line  North,  forty-five  degrees  West. 

Walter  retired,  but  slept  but  little  that  night.  He  was 
highly  elated  at  the  prospect  of  learning  to  survey,had  many 
misgivings  as  to  whether  he  would  succeed.  But  if  study 
and  perseverance  had  any  virtue,  he  was  bound  to  succeed. 

As  soon  as  it  was  light  in  the  morning  he  was  up  and  out 
with  his  compass.  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  adjust 
the  compass  to  his  satisfaction,  but  at  last  he  accomplished 
it.  He  next  liberated  the  needle,  by  means  of  the  thumb 
screw. 

The  moment  the  needle  began  to  move,  he  became  excited. 
The  idea  of  a  dead  piece  of  iron  moving  itself  was  something 
above  his  comprehension.  He  thought  it  must  be  moved  by 
some  supernatural  power.  Why,  he  thought  to  himself,  did 
not  Mr.  Webb  tell  me  where  the  force  comes  from  ?  He  talk- 
ed as  if  neither  himself  or  anybody  else  kijew  the  cause  !  He 
next  set  the  compass  as  he  thought  North,  45  °  West, but  the 
sights  pointed  East  of  North,  and  he  was  pondering  over 
this,  when  Webb  arrived. 

Good  morning,  Walter,    I  see  that  you  are    up  'and  at    it 

early.    You  have  the  compass  very  correctly  adjusted.  What 

course  do  you  say  it  points  ?     I  told  you    North,   45  °  West. 
Is  that  it  ? 

That  is  what  the  figures  say,  yet  it  points  to  the  Northeast 
instead  of  Northwest. 

You  have  fallen  into  a  very  common  error.  Now  look  and 
you  will  s^e  that  the  l^ttersE  and  N  are  reversed  on  the  compa^ 


50 

consequently  when  you  wish  to  run  N.  W.,  the  North  end  of 
the  needle  must  be  between  the  letters  N.  and  W.,and  to  run 
N.  E.,  between  E.  and  N.     Now  set  the  compass  on   the    fig- 
ures 45,  between  N.  and  W.,  and  you  will  have  the  course  we 
are  running. 

As  if  by  instinct,  the  boy  set  the  compass  on  the  course 
indicated. 

Well  done,  said  Webb.  Now  let  us  get  our  breakfast,  and 
then  you  can  take  charge  of  the  compass. 

Breakfast  was  eaten,  and  the  whole  party  went  to  the 
place  where  they  quit  work  the  day  before.  By  the  direct- 
tion  of  Webb,  Walter  set  the  compass  over  the  centre  stake, 
with  the  needle  pointing  N,  45  °  West. 

Well  done,  boy!  Now  you  see  sights  on  both  ends  of  the 
compass,  with  large  holes.  Between  them  are  fine  slots. 
Now  you  must  look  through  both  of  these  sights  at  the  flag 
ahead,  and  when  you  can  bring  the  two  sights  and  the  flag  in 
range,  you  are  right. 

Walter  motioned  the  flag  to  the  point  he  thought  in  range, 
and  said  : 

There  !     I  guess  that  is  right  ! 

You  must  not  guess;  you  must  know,  replied  Webb.  Let 
me  look.  You  have  made  another  common  error.  You  have 
sighted  through  the  large  holes.  Try  again  and  look 
through  the  slots. 

Walter  looked  again  and  saw  that  the  flag  was  twenty  feet 
out  of  line. 

Go  South  !  he  cried.  Now,  Mr.  Webb,  I  know-  tha.t  I  am 
right, 


51 
CHAPTER  X. 

Asleep   on    Her   Mother's  Grave— Going   a   Fishing— True 

Until    Death. 


We  left  Amy  and  Drake  with  their  pets  at  the  mother's 
grave.  To  force  Amy  from  the  spot  that  contained  her 
mother,  was  calculated  to  deprive  her  of  her  reason.  Thus, 
Drake  remained  a  silent  listner  to  her  grief.  She  refused  to 
return  to  the  house,  or  be  comforted,  and  cried  herself  to 
sleep  on  her  mother's  grave  with  the  cat  in  her  arms  and 
Rolla  by  her  side. 

Drake  sympathized  with  her.  He  said  to  himself  :  Would 
I  have  loved  my  mother  so  intently,  had  I  been  permitted  to 
live  with  and  love  her  ?  But  I  have  no  recollections  of  ever 
seeing  her.  When  I  was  a  babe  I  was  stolen  from  her.  If 
she  loved  her  babe  as  Amy  loved  her  mother,  how  terrible 
must  have  be^nher  feelings  when  she  learned  that  I  had  been 
stolen.  Undoubtedly  she  thinks  that  I  am  dead.  I  had  a 
father — perhaps  brothers  and  sisters.  I  wonder  if  they 
would  be  glad  to  see  me  !  I  know  my  mother  would.  They 
tell  me  a  mother's  love  for  her  child  never  dies.  My  father 
sailed  a  ship  then — perhaps  he  does  now.  If  I  shold  go 
where  these  ships  sail,  I  might  find  him.  If  he  made  that 
figure  on  my  breast,  he  would  know  me. 

Thus  Drake  reasoned  over  the  matter,  and  came  to  the 
conclusion  to  go  in  search  of  his  parents. 

• 

Yes,  he  said  to  himself,  in  searching  for  them,  I  may  find 
Amy's  friends. 

Presently  a  shadow  passed  him,  and  looking  up,  saw  Ca- 
hoonshee  approaching. 


52 

Sleeping,  he  exclaimed,  and  as  unconscious  as  the  mother 
that  sleeps  beneath  her.  Perhaps  she  would  be  better  off  if 
she  was  as  cold  and  lifeless  as  her  mother.  But  such  is  not 
nature's  decree.  She  is  saved  for  some  purpose,  for  what, 
we  know  not.  None  of  us  can  fathom  the  ways  of  the  Great 
Spirit.  We  have  buried  the  mother.  Now  let  us  take  care 
of  the  child.  Take  her  in  your  arms,  Drake,  and  take  her  to 
the  cabin. 

Drake  took  her  up  as  tenderly  as  a  mother  would  her  babe 
and  carried  her  to  the  house.  Rolla  and  the  cat  followed, 
mute  and  silent. 

Amy  was  so  overcome  by  her  grief  that  she  did  not  awake, 
and  Drake  laid  her  and  her  cat  Walt  on  the  bed. 

Poor  girl,  said  Betsy,  she  can't  give  her  mother  up.  But 
she  mnsl  have  something  to  eat.  She  has  not  eaten  anything 
since  her  mother  died. 

Don't  wake  her  up,  said  Cahoonshee,  let  her  have  her  cry 
and  sleep  out,  and  in  the  morning  she  will  be  more  recon- 
ciled. 

That  night  the  parties  talked  over  what  they  would  do 
with  Amy,  and  came  to  the  conchision  to  keep  her  in  the 
Quick  family  until  they  could  hear  from  her  friends.  That 
when  they  went  on  their  farm  at  Milford,  they  would  take 
Amy  with  them,  that  there  she  would  have  some  opportunity 
to  attend  school,  and  mingle  in  society  with  those  ot  her 
own  sex. 

When  the  family  arose  in  the  morning,  Amy  was  up  and 
gone.  Instinct  led  Drake  to  her  mother's  grave,  where  he 
found  Amy  and  Rolla. 

Amy/ was  sad,  but  composed,  and  was  engaged  in  decorat- 
ing the  grave  with  flowers  gathered  from  the  mountain 
side. 


53 

Good  morning,  Amy,  I  see  you  still  mourn  the  loss  of  your 
mother. 

Yes,  she  replied,  mother  did  all  she  could  for  me  while  liv- 
ing. Now  that  she  is  dead,  I  will  visit  her  and  her  grave.  I 
shall  keep  the  flowers  fresh  and  the  grass  green  on  her  grave 
as  long  as  I  can.  Won't  you  help  me  Drake  ? 

Certainly,  he  replied.     What  can  I  do  for  you  ? 

You  can  help  me  build  a  wall  around  the  grave.  Down 
where  mother  came  from,  they  build  a  wall  around  the 
graves,  and  set  a  stone  with  the  name  on  it.  I  want  to  do  so 
by  mama's  grave,  and  Rolla  and  I  will  come  to  see  it  every- 
day. 

Yes,  replied  Drake,  Tom  and  I  will  build  the  wall,  and  Ca- 
honshee  will  set  the  stone.  Come  sister,  go  to  the  house 
with  me.  It  is  breakfast  time.  After  breakfast,  Tom  and  I 
will  build  the  wall. 

Amy  was  reluctant  to  leave  the  place  that  contained  all 
that  was  dear  to  her.  Drake  unconsciously  put  his  arm 
abound  her. 

Come  Amy,  you  still  have  friends.  There  are  those  that 
love  yon. 

At  breakfast,  little  or  nothing  was  said.  Amy  eat  a  hearty 
breakfast,  and  seemed  to  be  reconciled  to  her  lot. 

She  was  then  informed  of  the  conclusion  that  had  been  ar- 
rived at  night  before — that  she  was  to  live  with  them  until 
her  friends  could  be  found — that  they  would  return  to  their 
farm  at  Milford  in  a  few  days,  and  that  she  was  to  go  with 
them. 

Amy  scarcely  knew  what  to  do  or  say.  She  did  not  want 
to  leave  her  mother's  grave  so  soon.  She  wished  to  be 
where  she  could  make  it  daily  visits  and  keep  the  grass 
green. 


T  would  rather  stay  here  with  you,  she  said.  You  have 
been  very  good  to  mevand  mother.  Let  me  stay  here  and 
keep  house  for  the  boys,  at  the  same  time  glancing  at 
Drake. 

The  boys  go  with  us,  replied  the  elder  Quick. 

Then  I  will  go,  but  I  want  the  wall  built  around  the  grave 
before  I  go. 

That  shall  be  done  to-day,  said  Drake.  Come  and  tell  me 
how  you  want  it  built. 

May  I  call  you  brother  ?  said  Amy. 

\ 
Yes,  he  replied,  and  I  shall  be  proud  to  have  such  a   brave 

sister,  and  involuntarily  he  placed  his  arm  around  Amy's 
waist,  and  they  walked  to  the  grave  in  silence. 

Tom  followed,  and  a  wall  was  soon  laid  around  the  ground 
that  enclosed  the  sacred  dead,  and  in  a  few  days  Cahoonshee 
erected  a  stone  on  which  was  inscribed  "  Here  lies  Mary,  the 
mother  of  Amy  Powers." 

In  a  few  days  they  went  to  live  on  the  Milford  farm.  But 
Tom  was  seldom  at  home.  He  did  not  like  school  or  books. 
He  seemed  to  like  the  company  of  the  Indians  better  than 
he  did  his  father's  home,  and  hunted  and  fished  with  them 
until  he  acquired  their  language  and  habits. 

Not  so  with  Drake.  He  employed  every  opportunity  to 
acquire  knowledge  and  improve  his  mind,  and  would  listen 
for  hours  to  Cahoonshee,  as  he  recited  history,  science  and 
tradition. 

Amy  was  now  just  blooming  into  womanhood,  being  near- 
ly sixteen  years  old,  with  a  tall  and  commanding  figure,  with 
auburn  hair  and  dark  blue  eyes,  cheeks  the  color  of  a  peach- 
blossom.  Her  hair  hanging  in  ringlets  over  her  shoulders, 
her  eyes  sparkled,  and  were  a  fair  index  to  her  mind.  Live- 
ly, and  like  the  most  of  her  sex — talkative. 


55 

They  remained  on  the  farm  during  the  summer  season, 
and  at  the  cabin  on  the  Shinglekill  during  the  trapping 
season. 

A  few  days  after  they  had  moved  on  the  Milf ord  farm, Amy 
and  Drake,  at  the  edge  of  evening,  went  fishing  in  the  Dela- 
ware river.  Up  to  this  time,  nothing  had  been  said  to  Amy 
about  her  home  or  former  friends.  Drake  had  long  wished  to 
hear  her  story,but  out  of  delicacy  had  refrained  from  question- 
ing her.  Amy  often  spoke  of  the  loss  she  had  sustained  in 
the  death  of  her  mother,  but  went  no  further.  She  seeming- 
ly wished  to  conceal  from  the  world  her  parentage. 

The  water  was  bubbling  at  their  feet.  The  wind  whistled 
through  the  branches  of  the  trees.  The  birds  sang.  The 
squirrels  chattered,  but  Drake  and  Amy  remained  silent. 

Now  and  then  they  would  exchange  glances  toward  each 
other,  as  much  as  to  say  : 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  ? " 

Some  time  before  this,  Drake  had  resolved  to  go  in  search 
of  his  parents,  but  now  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  stay  and  protect 
this  orphan  child. 

Duty,  is  that  all  ?  don't  I  love  her}  he  said  to  himself  in  an 
undertone,  but  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  Amy. 

Love  who  ?  Who  do  you  love  ?  she  remarked  with  a 
blush. 

Drake  blushed,  but  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  to  cover 
his  confusion. 

Amy  placed  her  arm  about  his  neck,  siezed  his  hand,  and 
gazed  intently  into  his  eyes. 

You  love  somebody.  I  know  you  do.  Do  you  feel  just  as 
I  do. 

Do  you  love  some  one  ?  asked  Drake. 


56 

Yes,  she  replied,  laying  her  hand  on  his  bre?st.  Yes, 
brother,  I  do  love,  I  did  love,  I  ever  shall  love,  and  bursting 
into  tears,  she  cried  like  a  child,  and  it  was  several  minutes, 
before  she  could  control  her  feelings  to  finish  the  sen* 
tance, 

Drake  could  not  understand  this.  At  first  he  though  that 
she  had  reference  to  him.  But  the  language  '*  I  do  love,  I 
did  love,  I  ever  shall  love,"  indicated,  that  young  as  she, 
was,  she  had  not  escaped  cupid's  dart. 

Calm  yourself,  Amy,  perhaps  I  can  assist  you,  ts  it  Tom 
that  you  love?  and  are  you  crying  because  he  would  rather 
be  with  the  Indians  than  with  you? 

No  brother,  I  like  Tom,  but  I  don't  love  him. 

What  difference  is  there  between  liking  and  loving  ?  ask- 
ed  Drake. 

Oh,  I  don't  know,  brother,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  feel 
different  toward  Walter  than  I  do  toward  Tom  and  you  or 
any  one  else.  I  don't  know  what  makes  me.  I  only  know 
that  I  do. 

Who  is  Walter  ?  and  where  does  he  live  ?  asked  Drake. 

He  was  Walter  Wallace,  and  lived  .by  us  on  the  Calli- 
coon. 

But  where  is  he  now  ? 

I  don't  know — probably  dead.  Yet  something  tells  me 
that  lie  is  alive  and  that  I  shall  see  him  again. 

When  did  you  see  him  last  ?  Drake  inquired. 

I  saw  him  last  standing  on  the  bank  of  the  Callicoon,  but 
he  could  not  get  to  us.  Mother  and  I  and  the  cat  were  on 
the  raft,  and  the  river  was  running  between  us.  He  acted  as 
if  he  was  trying  to  tell  us  something,  but  the  water  made 
such  a  noise  we  could  not  hear  him. 


5T 

He  probably  thinks  you  were  drowned,  replied  Drake. 

He  may  think  so,  but  he  don't  know  it,  and  as  long  as  he 
don't  know  ,  he  will  wait  and  look  for  me.  He  was  a.  brave, 
bold,  good  boy.  He  loved  me,  and  I  loved  him,  and  we 
were  to  be  married.  Oh,  brother,  I  think  I  can  see  him  now, 
standing  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  looking  at  me.  But 
Drake,  you  said  to  youself,  (but  I  heard  it.)  that  you  l<  loved 
her."  Now  tell  me  all  about  it  as  plainly  as  I  have  told  you. 
We  are  brother  and  sister.  Neither  of  us  have  a  mother  or 
relative  that  we  know  of. 

Drake  remained  silent. 

Have  I  offended  yon  ?  Have  I  asked  too  much  ?  If  so  for- 
give me. 

I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  I  have  no  one  to  love  in  the 
sense  you  put  it.  I  will  be  content  in  liking — not  loving. 

What  do  you  mean,  brother?  I  don't  understand  you. 
Your  words  imply-more  than  you  say.  You  can  trust  Amy. 

Yes.  dear  girl,  I  can,  and  do  trust  you.  When  I  said  "  / 
love  her."  I  meant  you.  I  did  not  intend  it  for  your  ears.  I 
was  thinking  whether  I  did  not  feel  different  toward  you 
than  I  would  toward  a  sister.  I  am  glad  that  you  to'd  me  you 
loved  Walter  Wallace.  Now  we  understand  each  other.  I 
.will  still  like  you.  I  will  still  be  your  brother  and  friend, 
and,  if  possible,  I  will  find  your  lost  lover. 

Good  and  generous  boy!  exclaimed  Amy,throwing  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  kissing  him  passionately.  I  hope  you 
don't\love  me  as  I  do  Walter.  If  you  do,  how  miserable 
you  must  feel — how  unhappy  you  must  be.  How  I  would 
feel  to  meet  Walter  and  he  should  tell  me  that  he  liked  me 
but  did  not  love  me — that  he  loved  another.  But  that  can't 
be.  He  loves  me.  I  know  it?  I  feel  it  here  !  (placing  her 
hand  upon  her  heart.) 


Amy,  said  Drake,  you  are  a  good  generous  girl.  Few  of 
your  sex  would  have  been  so  honest.  I  have  promised  to 
tind  your  lover  if  possible.  I  intend  in  a  short  time  to  go 
in  search  of  my  own  parents,and  I  will  then  inquire  for  your 
friends.  But  so  far  you  have  said  nothing  to  me  about  your 
parents  that  would  assist  me  in  finding  them.  Are  you  wil- 
ling to  give  me  a  history  of  them  as  far  as  you  know? 

Yes,  as  far  as  I  know,  but  I  don't  know  much  about  them. 
I  have  heard  that  my  grand-father  lived  in  England, and  was 
very  rich.  That  father  married  mother  against  his  wish. 
That  he  gave  father  his  choice  to  leave  and  abondqn  mother, 
or  leave  his  house.  Father  refused,  and  was  disinherited. 
Then  father  and  mother  came  to  this  country  and  settled  in 
Conneticut,  not  far  from  Manhattan,  until  they  moved  to 
C.allicoon,  and  that  is  all  I  know  about  it. 

That  will  help  me,  replied  Drake.  Now  that  we  under- 
stand each  other  and  ourselves,  let  us  return  to  the  house. 
And  placing  his  arm  around  her,  they  returned  in  silence. 

Before  this  interview,  Drake  had  regarded  Amy  as  a 
friendless  orphan,  and  felt  an  interest  in  her  welfare.  Air 
though  he  called  her  sister,  and  was  addressed  by  her  as 
brother,  he  was  ignorant  of  the  ties  that  usually  exist  be- 
tween  brother  and  sister.  He  never  enjoyed  the  society  of 
brother  or  sister,  father  or  mother,  and  it  was  this  that  led 
him  to  remark  "  don't  I  love  her."  But  now  his  eyes  were 
open.  Now  he  could  understand  what  love  was,  "  pure  and 
unalloyed."  Now  he  could  understand  what  had  prompted 
his  feelings  toward  Amy.  His  feelings  were  not  of  pure 
friendship  for  the  orphan  child  he  had  promised  to  protect. 
He  had  a  selfish  motive.  Her  frank  sincerity  and  child-like 
simplicity  had  raised  her  in  his  estimation.  He  saw  in  the 
girl,  a  noble,  generous,  woman,  wife  and  mother.  Yet  he  re- 
alized that  she  loved  Walter  Wallace,  and  be  he  dead  or 


50 

alive,  she  would  never  love  another,  She  would  only  like 
him  as  a  brother,  and  with  that  he  must  be  content. 

But  I  have  promised  to  be  her  friend,  and  her  friend  I 
will  be. 

It  cost  Drake  an  effort  to  come  to  this  conclusion,  and  it 
showed  that  he  was  a  high-minded,  generous  rnan,and  could 
appreciate  Amy's  love  for  Walter,  by  his  own  love  for 
Amy, 

Noble  Girl.  Worthy  of  the  love  of  Walter  Wallace  or  any 
other  man, 

CHAPTER  XI, 

The  Second  Lesson— Completing  His  Education— Found  New 
Friends— The  Mutiny— Death  of  Sambo. 


That  is  bold  language  boy.  You  say  you  "  know  that  you 
are  right."  There  are  but  a  few  things  in  this  world  that  we 
positively  know.  We  are  likely  to  be  deceived  in  many  ways. 
Sometimes  the  eye  is  imperfect,  and  the  mind  clouded. 
Sometimes  our  eager  desire  to  accomplish  an  object,  aided 
by  our  immagination,  leads  us  astray.  Now  look  and  see  if 
you  can  see  the  white  spot  on  the  flag  staff  ? 

No,  I  can't  see  the  white  spot,  but  I  can  see  the  red. 

Yet  you  knew  that  you  were  right. 

Walter  was  confused. 

I  think  that  I  am  right. 

Do  you  know  that  you  are  right  ? 

His  confusion  increased. 

Now  place  the  staff  so  that  you  can  see  both  the  white  and 
red,  then  you  will  be  right.  You  are  now  looking  at  a  bunch 
of  red  leaves. 


60 

Walter  felt  chagrined.  The  flag  was  moved  about  five  feet 
and  then  he  could  see  it  from  top  to  bottom. 

You  are  right  now,  replied  Webb. 

But  how  did  you  know  it  wasn't  right?  You  stood  behind 
the  compass,  but  did  not  look  through  it. 

I  knew  it  by  that  tall  pine  tree  on  top  of  yonder  hill.  I 
discovered  a  mile  back  that  the  tree  was  exactly  in  line,  and 
if  you  will  look  back,  you  will  see  a  dead  hemlock  tree,  with 
the  bark  off.  By  noticing  objects  both  ahead  and  behind, you 
can  detect  the  least  variation. 

Walter  comprehended  the  explanation. 

If  I  understand  you, the  needle  must  set  on  the  figures  45  °  , 
W.,  and  looking  forward  through  the  slots,  the  eye  must 
strike  the  staff  and  pine  tree,  and  looking  back,  the  hemlock 
tree  must  be  in  line  exactly. 

Right  boy.  Now  move  on  to  the  flag  and  take  a  new 
sight. 

The  compass  was  set  at  the  next  station  by  Walter,  with 
great  care.  Before  him,  he  could  see  the  staff  and  pine  tree, 
and  behind  he  could  see  the  dead  Hemlock. 

Well  done,  boy  !  exclaimed  Webb.  You  have  mastered 
your  first  lesson.  You  can  take  charge  of  the  instrument 
now  for  the  season.  We  shall  run  this  course  for  the  next 
month,  then  we  will  go  into  winter  quarters,  and  you  can  go 
into  the  books,  and  by  spring,  you  can  take  charge  of  the 
survey. 

Walter's  eyes  glistened  with  satisfaction,  both  for  the 
praise  and  promises  of  his  employer.  From  this  time  to  the 
close  of  the  season,  Walter  took  charge  of  the  work,  and 
gave  entire  satisfaction  to  his  employer. 

About  the  first  of  November, they  went  on  board  a  flat-boat 
and  floated  down  the  Delaware.  Amy,  Walter's  cat,  accom- 


61 

panied  them.  They  arrived  at  Philadelphia  on  the  fifth  day, 
and  immediately  proceeded  to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Webb, 
where  Walter  was  well  received  and  kindly  treated,  and  at 
once  commenced  his  school  days,  and  earnestly  studied 
mathematics,  geometry  ahd  trigonomitry.  He  threw  his 
whole  soul  into  his  studies,and  worked  night  and  day  to  solve 
the  difficult  problems.  Although  he  was  in  a  city  of  fashion, 
he  could  not  be  induced  to  enter  society.  His  books  and 
Amy  were  his  only  companions. 

Thus,  the  winter  passed.  In  the  spring  he  returned  to  the 
Minisink  country  to  survey. 

Thus,  four  years  passed — surveying  in  the  summer,  and 
studying  at  school  in  the  winter.  During  this  time  he  had 
not  only  mastered  surveying  and  civil  engineering,  but  had 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  navigation  that  rendered  him  capa- 
ble of  sailing  a  ship  around  the  world. 

Having  now  arrived  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he  was  bis 
own  master,  and  more  than  that,  he  was  master  of  himself. 

He  was  now  to  choose  what  should  be  his  future  course. 
One  great  incentive  of  his  life  was  to  find  Amy  or  her 
friends.  He  knew  that  her  grand-father  lived  in  England. 
He  wished  to  go  there,  but  how  to  accomplish  it,  he  did  not 
know.  Like  a  dutiful  child,  he  asked  his  old  friend  and  pre- 
ceptor, Charles  Webb. 

Would  you  like  a  position  on  a  shp  ?  he  asked. 

Yes,  he  replied,  if  it  was  one  in  the  line  of  promotion. 

Leave  that  to  me,  replied  Webb.  I  will  see  that  you  are 
promoted  in  the  start  .You  understand  navigation  as  well  as 
any  Captain  in  the  English  Navy,  and  in  a  few  months  you 
can  learn  to  work  a  ship.  After  that  all  will  be  easy.  I 
have  a  particular  friend  that  is  in  port  now,  Captain  Davis, 
of  His  Majesty's  Ship,  "  Reindeer,"  I  thinfc  be  would. 


62 

you.  His  wife  generally  sails  with  him.  His  only  child  was 
stolen  from  him  twenty  years  ago  by  the  Indians,  while  they 
were  on  shore  at  Kingston,  on  the  Hudson. 

I  will  follow  your  advice,  said  Walter. 

Then  no  time  must  be  lost,  as  I  do  not  know  what  moment 
the  ship  may  sail.  I  will  request  him  to  call  on  me  this  eve- 
ning, and  he  hastily  wrote  the  following  note  : 

"  Will  Captain  Davis  honor  his  old  friend  by  calling  this 
evening.  Charles  Webb." 

There  !  Take  that  and  go  down  to  the  dock.  There  you 
will  find  a  boat  in  charge  of  an  officer.  Hand  him  this  let- 
ter, and  he  will  deliver  it  to  the  Captain,  who  is  on  board  the 
Reindeer,,  anchored  in  the  stream. 

As  Walter  approached  the  river,  he  saw  a  ship  lying  at  an- 
chor. A  curious  feeling  came  over  him.  The  tall  masts,  the 
white  sails,  the  ports  in  the  sides  with  bristling  cannon  pro- 
jecting. 

Is  that  to  be  my  future  home?  he  thought  to  himself.  Ami 
to  plough  the  briny  deep  ?  Will  that  bear  me  to  the  grand- 
father of  my  Amy  ? 

Bang  !  went  a  gun,  and  a  cloud  of  smoke  issued  from  the 
ship's  side.  A  moment  after,  a  boat  left  the  ship,  and  was 
rowed  towards  the  shore.  Walter  watched  it  with  interest. 
When  it  came  in  full  view,  he  saw  that  four  sailors  pulled  at 
the  oars,  dressed  in  blue  uniform.  In  the  stern  sat  two  men 
clad  in  the  uniform  of  English  Naval  officers,  the  elder  of 
which  was  smoking  a  cigar.  It  occurred  to  him  that  it  was 
to  one  of  these  men  that  he  was  to  hand  the  letter.  As  soon 
as  the  boat  landed, the  two  officers  stepped  on  the  wharf,  and 
the  boat  pulled  put  in  the  stream,  Walter  advanced,  raising 
Jlis  cap  : — 


Gentlemen,  can  you  inform  me  what  officer  commands 
the  boat  that  lias  just  set  you  two  gentlemen  on  shore? 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  as  if  in  doubt,  when  the 
younger  replied  : 

This  gentleman  is  Captain. 

Not  so  fast,  replied  Davis.  I  am  Captain  of  the  ship — you 
are  Captain  of  this  boat.  What  can  we  do  for  you  young 
man  ? 

Mr.  Webb  requested  me  to  hand  this  letter  to  the  officer 
having  charge  of  the  boat,  at  the  same  time  presenting  the 
letter. 

The  younger  of  the  two  took  it. 
Here,  Captain,  this  is  for  you. 

« 

The  Captain  read  it. 

Are  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Webb  young  man  ? 
Yes,  he  replied,  in  a  sweet,  mild  voice.     I  have  been  in  his 
employ  for  several  years. 

How  is  that  ?  asked  the  Captain.  I  have  made  his  house 
my  home  for  several  years,  but  I  never  saw  you  there. 

That  was  because  you  were  in  port  during  the  warm 
season.  At  that  time  I  was  in  the  wilderness  surveying  for 
Mr.  Webb. 

The  Captain  looked  at  the  young  man  in  astonishment. 
What  is  your  name  ? 
Walter  Wallace. 

Is  Mr.  Webb  at  home  ?  Being  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
he  said  to  the  officer  at  his  side  : 

Send  a  boat  for  me  to-morrow  at  eight.  Remember  we' 
weigh  anchor  at  ebb. 


The  officer  raised  his  hat  to  his  superior  and  walked 
away.  Then  at  a  given  signal  the  boat  returned  to  the  shore 
and  the  officer  stepped  on  board. 

The  Captain  stood  and  looked  at  his  ship  as  it  gently  rock- 
ed in  the  swell  of  the  river. 

A  beauty  !  A  beauty  !  Handsomer  than  the  Reindeer  it 
is  named  after.  Do  you  return  to  Webb's  ?  asked  the  Cap- 
tain, addressing  Walter. 

Yes  sir. 

Then  we  will  walk  along  together. 

Walter  felt  awkward.  Here  he  was  walking  along  side  of 
a  large,  handsome  man,  dressed  in  the  rich,  glittering  uni- 
form of  the  British  Navy.  He  was  recognized  by  the  pass- 
ers-by— atxleast  he' was  saluted  by  their  raising  their  hats.  . 

But  little  had  been  said  in  their  walk  from  the  river  to 
Webb's.  Arriving  there,  Walter  entered  and  seated  the 
Captain  in  the  parlor,  while  he  went  to  notify  Webb. 

Ah,boy,back  so  soon?  I  did  not  think  that  you  would  meet 
the  boat  until  after  the  firing  of  the  sun-down  gun. 

Walter  explained  how  he  met  the  boat  as  it  landed — the 
delivery  of  the  letter — that  one  of  the  gentlemen  that  came 
on  the  boat  had  accompanied  him  home,  and  was  now  in  the 
parlor  waiting. 

Did  you  learn  his  name  ? 

No,  but  I  learned  he  was  the  Captain  of  the  ship. 

That  is  Captain  Davis  himself.  To  him  I  expect  to  trust 
my  ward.  You  remain  here  until  I  call  you. 

Then  Webb  went  to  the  parlor. 

Good  day  Captain,  ahead  of  time,  but  always  welcome. 

No,  I  am  just  in  time.  I  had  to  come  now  or  never — at 
least  not  until  my  return  from  England. 


65 

England  !  exclaimed  Webb,  I  thought  ycu  were  going  into 
winter  quarters. 

So  I  supposed,  but  this  morning  I  received  orders  to  sail 
to-morro\v. 

Then  I  have  no  time  to  accomplish  the  object  I  had  in 
view  in  sending  for  you. 

State  your  object,,  and  if  possible,  I  will  help  you  accom- 
plish it. 

I  sent  for  you  in  relation  to  the  young  man  you  have  often 
heard  me  speak  of, that  I  found  in  the  Minisink  wilderness. 

Is  that  the  young  man  that  handed  me  the  letter? 
Yes. 

The  fellow  that  killed  the  panther,  and  fell  in  love  with 
the  cat  ?. 

Precisely.  Only  the  cat  is  the  namesake  or  representative 
of  the  girl  he  fell  in  love  with. 

Oh,  I  remember  it  all,  replied  Davis.  In  what  way  can  I 
assist  either  you  or  him  ? 

I  wish  to  procure  a  situation  for  him  on  your  ship. 

In  what  capacity? 

I  will  leave  that  to  you. 

Of  course  that  will  depend  on  his  qualifications.  He  could 
not  have  learned  any  of  the  duties  of  a  seaman  in  the  wil- 
derness you  found  him. 

Not  all  the  duties,  Captain,  certainly  not.  Yet  there  are 
many  things  that  are  indespensible  to  a  seaman  that  has 
been  learned  on  land — yes  even  in  the  howling  wilderness. 
But  we  will  call  him.  You  can  examine  him  and  then  de- 
tide. 

Walter  was  waiting  on  the  stoop,  when  he  was  addressed 
by  Sambo. 


Massa  Walt — Massa  Webb  want  you  in  de  parlor.  Too  bad 
Walt — too  bad.  They  are  going  to  take  you  off  in  big  ship. 
Sambo  never  see  Walt  any  more.  Wait  get  drowned.  Walt 
never  come  back  to  see  Sambo  or  cat  any  more. 

I  shall  take  the  cat  with  me,  replied  Walter. 

Dey  won't  let  you  do  dat.  Mighty  'ticular  on  ship.  Dey 
kill  Amy  and  throw  her  overboard  in  the  sea,  an'  if  Massa 
say  boo,  dey  whip  him  wid  a  cat  ob  nine  tails,  put  irons  on 
his  feet  and  stow  him  down  in  de  hole  wid  de  rats. 

Have  no  fears,  Sambo,  if  I  go,  the  cat  will  go  with  me. 
That  is  a  condition  the  Captain  must  agree  to  before  I  put 
my  foot  on  board. 

Oli,  Massa,  promises  like  pie  crust — "made  to  be  broken." 
What  Massa  do  when  three  hundred  miles  to  sea,  two  or 
three  hundred  to  do  wbatde  Captain  says — Walt  overboard 
— one  man  less,  dat  is  all.  Walt  not  missed — ship  sail  on. 
Captain  don't  like  you  now — say  you  come  out  of  de  woods 
— don't  know  anything.  Stay  on  shore,  Massa — stay  wid 
Sambo  an'  de  cat.  Captain  tink  you  big  baby — he  say  you 
kill  panther  and  love  cat.  * 

Walter  started  for  the  parlor  in  an  uneasy  state  of  mind. 
As  simple  as  Sambo  was,hehad  succeeded  in  raising  doubts  in 

his  mind,  as  to  the  propriety  of  his  going  to  sea. 
/ 

Captain  Davis,  I  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  to  you 
Walter  Wallace,  the  boy  I  have  told  you  so  much  about. 

I  am  happy  to  meet  and  form  your  acquaintance,  young 
man,  and  it  will  not  be  my  fault  if  we  do  not  become  fast 
friends. 

Walter  took  his  hand  timidly  and  said  : 

I  trust  such  may  be  the  case. 

I  learn  from  Mr.  Webb  that  you    woiild    like    to    ship    on 


6T 
board  the  Reindeer. 

Mr.  Webb  has  so  advised  me. 

What  position  would  you  prefer  ? 

Any  that  I  am  capable  of  filling,  was  his  prompt  reply. 

Have  you  any  knowledge  of  vessels  ? 

None,  except  what  I  have  learned  from  the  books. 

Put  the  questions  to  the  boy  directly,  suggested  Webb. 

That  would  do  if  I  was  examining  him  for  Sailing  Master, 
replied  the  Captain,  but  it  is  not 'expected  that  the  young 
man  has  studied  or  knows  anything  about  navigation. 

I  am  willing  to  be  examined  on  that  point,  rejoined  Wal- 
ter. 

The  Captain  was  surprised  at  the  cool  confidence  of  the 
boy,  but  proceeded  with  his  examination.  He  soon  found 
that  theoretically,  the  young  man  was  perfect.  He  also 
learned  that  book  learning  was  not  to  be  despised,  for  Wal- 
ter was  not  only  master  of  the  principles  of  navigation,  but 
could  locate  almost  all  the  continents,  seas  and  shoals  of  the 
world.  He  could  name  the  different  parts  of  a  ship,  and  the 
rigging  employed  in  sailing  it. 

That  will  do  for  the  present,  young  man.     You  can    retire, 
and  I  will  talk  over  the  matter  with  Mr.  Webb. 
Walter  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Webb,  this  young  man  is  a  prodigy.  When,  how  and 
where  did  he  acquire  this  knowedge  ?  I  never  understood 
that  you  were  a  navigator. 

But -you  forget,  Captain,  that  I  am  a  surveyor  and  civil  en- 
gineer, and  that  before  I  could  trust  him  to  do  my  work,  I 
had  to  know  that  he  understood  the  principles,and  from  sur- 
veying to  navigation,  there  is  but  one  step,  and  that  step 
he  has  taken. 


68 

But,  rejoined  Captain  Davis,  in  surveying  through  the 
woods,  no  great  accuracy  is  required,  but  at  sea,  accuracy  is 
required.  It  is  essential  to  the  safety  of  the  ship.  And  in 
case  we  arc  driven  from  our  course  by  the  wind  or  currents, 
\ve  must  determine  our  exact  latitude  and  longitude,  other- 
wise we  arc  lost.  And  this  youngster  makes  this  calculation 
to  a  fraction. 

The  boy's  precision,  said  Webb,  is  owing  to  his  early  edu- 
cation. I  taught  him,  that  in  surveying,  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  "good  enough,"  that  all  his  work  must  be  done  ex- 
actly right.  In  a  word,  he  must  know  that  he  was  right.  At 
sea,  circumstances  over  which  you  have  no  control,  may 
drive  you  from  your  course.  Not  so  on  land.  An  error 
there  is  carelessness,  and  often  the  entire  work  has  to  be 
done  over  again.  But  at  sea,  you  take  your  bearings  and 
start  anew.  And  it  was  for  these  reasons  that  I  .impressed 
on  the  young  man's  mind  the  necessity  of  accuracy. 

And  the  result  shows  that  you  have  succeeded,  replied 
the  Captain.  Webb,  I  really  like  the  boy,  and  would  like  to 
give  him  a  berth  on  board  of  the  Reindeer  suitable  to  his  at- 
tainments, but  you  know  how  it  is  in  the  English  Navy.  My 
officers  would  be  struck  with  horror,  to  be  introduced  to 
this  back  woods-man  as  one  of  their  equals. 

That,  the  young  man  does  not  require.  Neither  would  he 
accept  the  berth,  replied  Webb.  What  he  wants  is  a  place 
that  is  in  the  line  of  promotion,  and  work  his  way  up.  Give 
him  that  chance,  and  he  will  succeed. 

, There  is  just  where  the  difficulty  lies,  replied  Davis.  The 
son  of  some  Count,  Countess,  Lord  or  Admiral,  having 
neither  brains  or  attainments,  can  pass  the  Board  of  Ad- 
mirality  on  the  strength  of  their  name,  while  the  man  of 
worth  is  rejected  as  incompetent.  I  cannot  place  him  before 
the  mast  among  that  rough  element.  Neither  will  I  give 


69 

him  a  berth  among  the  marines.  I  like  the  boy,  and  would 
prefer  his  society  in  the  cabin.  Why  I  take  such  a  liking  to 
him,  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  is  that  he  puts  me  in  mind  of 
my  own  baby  boy  thas  was  stolen  from  me  years  ago. 

Is  he  alive? 

Possibly  yes — probably  no.  How  I  would  reverence  the 
man  that  had  received,  reared  and  educated  him  as  you  have 
done  by  this  child  of  the  forest.  Webb,  cannot  I  adopt  him 
as  my  son  ?  Cannot  I  take  him  in  the  place  of  my  own  long- 
lost  boy  ?  Cannot  I  be  a  father  to  him,  as  I  trust  someone 
has  been  to  my  child  ?  Then  I  can  protect  him,  and  save 
him  from  insult  and  harm.  Yes,  that  is  my  plan.  I  will 
take  him  on  board  as  my  guert,  if  not  as  my  •  son,  and  trust 
the  future  for  the  consequences.  Call  Mr.  Wallace  in. 

Not  so  fast  Captain,  said  Webb.  If  you  take  the  boy,  you 
must  take  his  incumbrances  with  him. 

Incumbrances  ?    What  do  you  mean  ? 

I  mean  that  he  has  got  a  cat  that  he  won't  leave  behind — a 
namesake  of  a  little  girl  that  he  loved  in  the  mountains 

That  is  all  easy,  replied  the  Captain,  my  wife  has  three  or 
four  in  the  cabin  now,  and  she  finds  much  enjoyment  in  pet- 
ting them.  One  more  won't  sink  the  ship. 

Walter  stepped  into  the  roo  n  with  the  cat  in  his  arms. 

Well,  young  man,  said  the  Captain,  we  have  settled  your 
case.  You  and  your  cat  are  to  go  on  board  with  me,  and 
you  are  to  be  the  guests  of  myself  and  wife  until  I  can  find  a 
proper  place  for  you.  How  does  that  suit  you  ? 

You  are  very  kind,  Captain  to  make  that  offer,  but  it  does 
not  suit  me.  I  would  prefer  to  be  somcbody,and  have  some- 
thing to  do. 

I  understand  your  motives,  young  man,  and  promise  that 
in  a  short  time  you  shall  be  somebody,  as  you,  call  it. 


70 

That  is  all  right,  rejoined  Webb.  Captain  Davis  will  be 
a  father  to  you,  and  when  we  meet  again,  I  hope  to  address 
you  as  Lieutenant  Wallace. 

How  would  you  like  to  change  your  name  from  Wallace  to 
Davis  ?  inquired  Davis. 

For  what  purpose?  asked  Walter. 

That  you  may  appear  as  my  son, and  command  the  respect 
of  all  on  board. 

That  would  be  deception,  Captain. 

The  Captain  felt  chagrined.  He  had  not  learned  the  real 
character  of  the  boy  in  which  he  had  taken  such  an  in- 
terest. He  saw  at  a  flash  that  Walter  did  not  understand  his 
meaning.  He  meant  the  offer  as  a  feeler,  to  see  if  Walter 
would  consent  to  his  adoption  and  take  his  name.  He 
scarcely  knew  how  to  extricate  himself  from  the  difficulty 
he  had  placed  himself  in  by  proposing  to  Walter  to  change 
his  name.  The  words  "That  would  be  deception, 'Captain," 
still  rang  in  his  ears,  and  raised  the  .boy  in  his  estimation. 

Webb  noticed  the  Captain's  embaressment  and  went  to 
his  relief. 

Walter,  I  think  you  had  better  accept  the  Captain's  prop- 
osition. 

Which  one  of  them  ?  he  asked  excitedly.  To  go  on  board 
of  the  ship,  or  change  my  name  ? 

To  go  on  board  the  ship  as  the  guest  of  Captain  Davis  and 
wife.  Say  no  more  about  the  name  or  position  at  present 
Let  time  determine  that. 

Father,  said  Walter  addressing  Webb,  I  rely  on  you  in  this 
matter.  You  com  man  and  I'll  obey. 

I  command  nothing.  I  merely  advise.  You  are  your  own 
master  now,and  have  a  right  to  choose  for  yourself.  Things 
have  changed  since  we  met  on  the  Callicoon.  Then  you 


M 

was  a  stripling  of  a  bay,  without  home,  parents  or  shelter. 
But  now  you  are  a  man,  noble,  generous  and  good.  Go  with 
Captain  Davis,  and  be  to  him  what  you  have  been  to  me — a. 
noble,  generous  son. 

Father  !  exclaimed  Walter  passionately,  am  I  to  you  what 
your  words  imply  ? 

YO.S,  and  more.  I  feel  as  if  you  were  bone  of  my  bone, and 
blood  of  my  blood.  You  are  the  only  child  I  ever  knew — the 
only  one  that  ever  called  me  father. 

Tears  trickled  down  Walter's  cheeks,,  and  throwing  his 
arms  around  Webb's  neck  exclaimed  : 

Yes,  father — more  than  a  father, what  I  am, what  I  shall  be, 
I  owe  to  you.  How  can  I  leave  you  ? 

Captain  Davis  had  been  an  interested  spectator  of  the 
scene  of  love  and  affection  that  passed  between  Walter  and 
Webb.  The  word  father  had  fallen  with  significance  on  his 
ear.  Never  had  he  been  addressed  by  that  endearing  name, 
and  he  now  felt  that  he  would  give  his  ship  and  commission 
to  change  places  with  Webb — to  have  those  manly  arms  em- 
brace his  neck,  and  hear  the  endearing  word  father  address- 
ed to  him.  Rising,  he  took  Walter  by  the  hand: — 

Have  no  fears,  young  man,  love  and  serve  me  as  you  have 
my  friend  Webb,  and  what  a  father  can  or  should  do  for  a 
son,  I  will  do  for  you — even  to  the  command  of  the  Rein- 
deer. Be  ready  to-morrow  at  two,  when  myself  and  wife 
will  call  for  you. 

So  soon,  Captain  ? 

Yes,  that  is  our  orders.     We  sail  at  ebb  to-morrow. 

When  Captain  Davis  had  left,  Walter  approached  Webb 
and  said  : 

This  is  sudden — unexpected,  a  very  sudden  change  in  my 
affairs. 


72 

No  more  sudden  than  the  killing  of  the  panther — the  water 
spout,  and  falling  into  my  hands. 

A  lucky  fall  for  me,  father. 

But  now  you  will  fall  into  good  hands.  Captain  Davis 
is  a  gentleman,  and  already  feels  interested  in  you,  as  if  you 
were  his  own  child,  and  would  like  to  have  you  take  his 
name. 

That  can  never  be.  My  name  is  Walter  Wallace,  and  ever 
shall  be. 

But  you  must  be  getting  ready  to  depart.  Sambo  will  as* 
sist  you  in  packing  and  removing  your  trunk  to  the 
vessel. 

Sambo  had  been  an  attentive  listener  to  what  had  passed 
between  the  parties,  and  looked  upon  the  whole  matter  with 
distrust. 

Will  Mussa  Webb  ekcuse  Sambo  ?  ejaculated  the  negro. 

Walter  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  had  always  been  a 
faithful,  loyal  servant,  and  seemed  to  be  dearly  attached  to 
Walter. 

Certainly,  Sambo,  if  you  can  give  a  good  reaason,  said 
Webb. 

Give  reason  ?  Yes,Sambo  give  the  the  goodest  of  reasons" 
Ship  sail  to-morrow — to-morrow  hangman's  day,  to-morrow 
Friday.  Bad  day — bad  luck — wind  blow — ship  sink — Massa 
Walt  get  drowned — sharks  eat  him  up— Sambo  see  young 
Massa  no  more.  Here  the  faithful  black  broke  down,  and 
cried  like  a  child. 

Sambo  is  not  to  be  blamed  for  his  fears.  He  believed  that 
Friday  was  an  unlucky  day.  Nor  was  his  supersticious  be- 
lief uncommon.  Sailors,  as  a  rule,regarded  it  as  a  day  to  be 
dreaded,  and  nothing  but  the  most  rigid  disciplin  would 
compell  them  to  weigh  anchor  and  leave  port  on  Friday. 


73 

Never  mind,  said  Walter,  we  have  been  friends  too  long  to 
quarrel  now.  I  will  pack  my  own  things. 

You'll  see,  Massa,  you'll  see,  and  bursting  into  tears,  left 
the  room. 

That  night  was  a  busy  and  anxious  one  for  Walter.  On 
the  morrow  he  was  to  leave  his  home  and  friends,  and  trust 
himself  among  strangers,  and  the  treacherous  waters  of  the 
Atlantic.  The  valley  of  the  Hudson,  and  the  granduer  of 
the  Delaware  were  to  be  hid  from  his  view. 

His  thoughts  were  on  the  Callicoon,  and  the  lovely  girl 
that  passed  from  his  sight  on  the  raft.  He  wished  to  behold 
the  place  once  more  before  he  left  his  native  shore. 

Oh,  Amy — my  baby — hoy  and  manly  love — shall  I  ever  see 
you  more?  Did  the  rolling,  rocking,  surging  waves  of  iho 
mad  Callicoon  cast  you  on  some  friendly  shore?  Have  you, 
like  me,  found  a  protector?  Are  you,  like  me,  hoping, pray- 
ing, trusting,  that  your  Walt  is  alive,  and  that  some  day  \ve 
shall  meet  again?  Noble,  generous  girl.  It  would  be  trea- 
son against  nature  and  the  laws  of  love  to  doubt  you.  Yes 
dear  Amy,  you  live.  I  feel  it.  Something  tells  me — I  know 
not  what — that  you  love  and  pray  for  me.  May  God  grant 
my  prayer,  that  your  prayer  may  be  answered,  that  we  may 
be  in  fact,  as  we  are  in  heart,  '.'  twain  one  flesh." 

Thus  did  Walter  pass  his  last  night  on  shore,  communing 
with  his  thoughts  about  that  which  occupied  his  whole  soul. 

Promptly  at  the  time  appointed,  Captain  Davis  and  wife 
called. 

This  is  Mrs.  Davis,  my  wife,  and  this  is  Mr  Wallace,  the 
young  man  that  is  to  accompany  us. 

Mrs.  Davis  extended  her  hand  and  s#id  : 

I  am  happy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Wallace.  I  have  heard  the 
Captain  speak  so  much  of  you, that  I  fell  in  love  before  I  saw 
you, 


74 

I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  make  the  Captain  jealous  before 
the  voyage  is  over. 

No  danger  of  that,  humorousl}-  replied  the  Captain,  at 
least  the  love  would  be  all  on  one  side.  Walter's  heart  is 
ste-jled  against  feminine  charms  and  womanly  affection.  If 
I  am  rightly  informed,  his  affections  are  bestowed  on  a  fe» 
male  cat. 

Walter's  eyes  flashed  fire.  Davis  discovered  his  mistake, 
and  added  : 

But  I  am  also  informed  that  the  cat  is  a  keepsake  or  name> 
sake  of  his  boyish  love.  Well,  well.  I  suppose  I  used  to 
have  some  such  feelings  toward  you,  when. I  was  a  boy. 

Where  is  this  wonderful  cat  ?  asked  Mrs.  Davis. 

Here,  said  Sambo,  dropping  the  cat  at  her  feet.  Dis  'ere, 
be  Miss  Ame. 

Beautiful  !  lovely  !  charming  !  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davis. 

Now,  Mrs.  Davis,  exclaimed  tht  Captain,  don't  you  fall  in 
love  with  that  cat  :  If  you  do  there  will  b?  war  in  the 
cabin. 

And  I  will  be  the  victor,  if  there  is  anything  in  numbers. 
I  have  two  or  three  now. 

Bang !     Bang  !     Bang  ! 

That  is  the  signal  for  all  on  board,  exclaimed  Davis  au- 
thoritively.  Now,  Mr.  Webb,  please  walk  with  me.  Walter 
will  accompany  my  wife,  and  you,  Sambo,  escort  the  cat. 

The  parties  started  for  the  wharf  in  the  order  indicated. 

As  the  party  left  the  door,  Mrs.  Davis  took  Walter's  arm. 
This  was  embarassing  for  him,  as  he  had  always  held  him- 
self a]oof  of  their  company,  and  what  little  he  had  seen  of 
them  in  society  had  not  favorably  impressed  him,  In  fact, 
his  Idealoi  woman  was  centered  on  one  he  had  not  seen  for 
years  and  perhaps  he  would  never  see  again. 


75 

Mrs.  Davis  attributed  his  silence  to  the  fact  that  he  was 
leaving  his  home  and  the  scenes  of  his  childood  to  go,  he 
knew  not  where,  and  for  the  purpose  of  awakening  him, 
said  : 

Mr.  Wallace,  you  must  not  feel  so  sad  at  this  parting.  I  am 
sure  that  you  will  b,-  ple:iS2.1  with  fie  ocean  voyage,  and  be- 
fore we  return,  you  will  have  an  opportunity  to  see  most  of 
the  cities  of  the  world, 

That  will  be  interesting,  he  replied,  yet  to  leave  home  and 
friends,  to  go  forth,  I  know  not  where,  or  scarcely  who  I  go 
with,  is  calculated  to  make  me  despondent. 

But  you  do  know  who  you  go  with.  You  go  with  Captain 
Davis  and  wife.  In  them  you  will  find  true  friend.  Is 
know  that  I  shall  love  you.  Had  I  retained  my  own  sweet 
babe  that  was  stolen  from  me  years  ago,  he  would  be  like 
you,  a  man.  Walter,  will  you  take  the  place  of  that  boy  ? 
Will  you  love  me  ?  Will  you  call  me  mother? 

Lady,  you  neither  know  yourself  nor  me.  There  is  a  gulf 
between  us.  You  belong  to  the  rich,  powerful  and  educated. 
I  belong  to  the  poor.  You  came,  from  London,  I  from  the 
woods.  Tell  me,  Madam,  where  there  is — where  there  can 
be  anything  in  common  between  us  ? 

Everything,  Walter,  everything,  My  boy  was  stolen  by 
the  Indians,  and  if  he  lives,  like  you,  he  must  be  deprived  of 
civilized  society.  Like  you,  he  once  had  a  mother  to  love 
and  caress  him.  Like  you, he  has  no  mother  now.  Like  you 
he  must  depend  on  strangers.  Like  you, he  may  have  a  deep 
seated  love  in  his  heart  for  some  person  that  once  existed, 
but  now  exists  only  in  his  hopes  or  imagination.  What  a  con- 
solation it  would  be  to  know  that  he  still  lives — that  some 
good,  noble  woman  was  acting  toward  him  the  part  of  a 
mother.  And  as  I  would  wish  others  to  do  by  my  boy,  so-  do 
I  wish  to  do  by  you. 


76 

Walter  was  affected  by  this  pleading-.  He  was  con- 
vinced that  Mrs.  Davis  knew  his  history,  and  his  deep,  undy- 
ing love  for  Amy.  He  faltered  for  a  moment  only  : 

Mother,  as  you  wish  it,  so  it  shall  be. 

Bless  you,  boy.bless  you.  Now  I  shall  have  a  child  to  love, 
and  shall  be  loved  in  return.  Oh,  Walter,  how  happy  we 
shall  be  when  we  get  out  on  the  broad, blue  Atlantic,  as  there 
is  a  young  lady  going  with  us — the  neice  of  the  Lord  of  the 
Admirality. 

The  parties  were  now  approaching  the  wharf.  In  the 
stream  lay  the  Reindeer,  gently  rocking  at  anchor,  bedeck- 
ed with  flags. 

It  Avas  generally  known  that  the  shipsailed  thatday,  and  the 
inhabitants  of  Philadelphia  were  generally  out  to  see  her  de- 
part. As  they  approached. they  saw  that  the  wharf  was  lined 
with  people,  and  that  some  of  them  were  engaged  in  a  dead- 
ly struggle.  The  marines  were  trying  to  drive  on  board  a 
number  of  sailors  that  were  crazed  with  rum.  Oaths,  and 
imprecations  were  to  be  heard  above  the  splashing  water. 
The  sailors  refused  to  leave  port  on  Friday.  Ordinarily  their 
superstition  would  cause  them  to  demur.  But  now,  being 
maddened  by  rum,  they  revolted  to  a  man,  and  acted  like 
blood-thirsty  demons. 

Captain  Davis  was  unarmed,  but  he  saw  that  something 
must  be  done  quicldy.or  the  mutineers  would  clear  the  wharf 
and  become  masters  of  the  situation. 

His  Second  Lieutenant  was  trying,  in  van.-,  to  reason  with 
the  men,  but  they  threatened  and  derided  him. 

Captain  Davis  threw  himself  among  them,  and  in  a 
stentorian  voice  cried  ; 

Silence!  men!     Silence! 

We  will  silence  you  !  said  a  burly,   brutal,   drunken  sailor 


7? 

drawing  his  knife  from  the  sheath  and  sprang  at  the  Captain, 
who  was  neither  armed  or  prepared  to  defend  himself. 

The  knife  was  raised  and,  about  to  strike  him  to  the  heart, 
when  Walter  sprang  forward,  and  with  one  well  directed 
bl.ow  under  the  assassin's  ear, 'knocked  him  off  the  dock,  and 
his  body  splashed  in  the  water. 

Bloody  land  lubber  !  exclaimed  half  a-dozen  voices,  as 
they  all  rushed  upon  him. 

Single  hanVled  he  would  have  been  more  than  a  match  for 
any  bully  on  board  of  the  Reindeer.  But  to  contend  with  a 
dozen  armed  monsters,  whose  every  faculty  was  crazed  with 
rum,  renderen  his  case  hopeless.  Still  he  struck  right  and 
left,  and  with  each  blow  a  man  fell. 

Take  that  !  cried  one  of  the  drunken  demons,  aiming  his 
knife  to  reach  his  heart. 

Up  to  this  time,  Sambo  had  been  a  silent  spectator.  But 
now,  seeing  his  young  master  in  serious  danger,  he  threw 
himself  between  them,  receiving  the  blow  in  his  breast  that 
was  intended  for  his  master. 

I  told  you  so,  Massa  Walt,  I  told  you  so  !  and  fell  dead  at 
his  feet. 

This  added  fuel  to  the  flames.  Two  of  the  remaining 
sailors  grappled  with  him. 

Charge  !  men  !  Charge  !  came  from  a  person  not  before 
seen. 

O.ie  of  Walter's  antagonists  fell, but  the  other  held  him  by 
the  throat.  Now  came  the  tug  of  war.  The  result  depended 
on  the  strength  of  muscle.  The. fight  goes  on.  They  get 
nearer  the  dock,  both  exerting  themselves  to  throw  the  other 
overboard.  They  both  fell,  and  for  a  moment  are  buried  in 
the  briny  deep.  When  they  came  to  the  surface,  Walter  had 
the  sailor  by  the  throat,  holding  him  off  at  arm's  length. 


fa 

His  face  was  black,  and  his  tongue  protruded.     Walter  with- 
drew  his  hand,  and  the  sailor  sank. 

At  this  moment  a  boat  appeared  as  if  by  magic,  and  Walter 
was  drawn  on  board  in  an  unconscious  condition. 

Thank  you,  Lieutenant,  thank  you  !  exclaimed  Captain 
Davis.  But  for  your  timely  arrival  we  should  have  all  been 
murdered. 

Not  at  all,  Captain.  I  but  did  a  sailor's  duty.  I  both  saw 
and  heard  what  was  going  on,  and  ordered  a  file  of  marines 
to  your  rescue. 

Well  planned  and  skillfully  executed, said  Davis.  Now  iron 
these  mutineers,  and  place  them  in  the  cags  until  they  can 
be  lawfully  disposed  of. 

Order  being  restored,  embarkation  commenced.  Mrs.  Da- 
vis sat  in  the  stern,  holding  Waltei's  head  in  her  lap,  while 
the  Captain  stood  near  the  centre,  with  the  cat  Amy  in 
his  arms. 

Arriving  on  board,  the  Captain  ordered  a  council  of  his 
officers  to  see  what  was  their  opinion  about  leaving  port  that 
night,  and  to  learn,  if  possible,  whether  this  had  been  a  pre- 
concerted mutiny,or  whether  it  was  caused  by  drinking  too 
much  rum. 

The  First  Lieutenant  said  he  would  vouch  for  every  man 
on  board.  The  mutineers,  he  said,  are  safely  ironed,  and  the 
rest  of  the  men  are  loyal. 

Weigh  anchor  !  said  the  Captain  to  his  subordinate.  To 
hesitate  on  these  drunken  threats  would  be  tantemount  to 
surrendering  my  command. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it,  the  anchor  is   weigh-  • 
ed,  the  sails  spread,  and   the    Reindeer    moves   majestically 
toward  the  broad  Atlantic. 

A  gentle  breeze  drove  the  Reindeer  through    the    rippled 


79 

water,  and  just  as  the  sun  was  setting  behind  the  western 
hills,  Captain  Davis  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  his 
ship  was  safely  out  to  sea. 

Yet  the  Captain  felt  uneasy.  The  conduct  of  the  men  on 
shore  raised  some  suspicion  in  his  mind  that  trouble  was 
brewing.  In  his  officers  he  had  perfect  confidence. 

The  night  was  clear,with  just  wind  enough  to  fill  the  sails, 
and  the  Captain  and  his  First  Lieutenant  were  sitting  on  the 
quarter-deck,  discussing  the  events  of  the  day. 

By  the  way,  Captain,  who  was  that  tall,  noble,  looking 
young  man,  that  faced  the  whole  company  of  cut-throat?, 
and  laid  them  out  right  and  left,  as  a  boy  would  so  in  any 
marbles? 

That  is  Walter  Wallace,  the  foster  child  of  my  friend 
Charles  Webb. 

Wallace — that  is  a  familiar  name  to  me.  Do  you  k::o\v 
what  branch  of  the  Wallace  family  he  descended  from  ? 

No.  Neither  do  I  think  he  knows  himself.  Webb  found 
him  an  orphan,  alone,  in  the  woods,  and  adopted  him  in  his 
family.  They  lived  at  a  place  called  Callicoon,  not  far  from 
the  Delaware  river.  The  river  overflowed  the  banks  and 
drowned  all  but  him. 

Powers,  for  such  was  the  Lieutenant's  name,  manifested 
some  feeling  at  this  revelation,  and  exclaimed  : 

Is  it  possible  ? 

,  Is  what  possible  ?  asked  the  Captain. 
Is  it  possible  that  I  have  found  my  sister's  child  ? 

'  Sister's  child  ?  exclaimed  Davis.  How  could  a  sister  of 
yours  be  living  in  such  a  wilderness  ? 

By  following  the  dictation  of  her  conscience,  and  the  man 
she  loved,  replied  th£  Lieutenant.  The  story  is  short  and 


8.) 

quickly  told.  A  brother  and  sister  married  a  brother  and 
sister.  William  Wallace  married  my  sister,  Amelia  Powers, 
and  Thomas  Powers,  my  brother,  married  Mary  Wallace. 
For  this  act  they  were  driven  from  their  home,  crossed  the 
Atlantic, and  settled  in  Connecticut.  From  there  they  moved 
west  to  a  place  called  Callicoon.  I  received  several  letters 
from  them  for  several  years,  and  then  all  correspondence 
stopped.  I  then  employed  some  of  the  men  that  trade  in 
furs  to  make  inquiries  about  them.  They  reported  that  both 
families  had  resided  on  the  Callicoon,  but  \yere  all  dead,  hav- 
ing been  washed  away  and  drowned  by  a  water  spout  at  the 
head  of  the  stream.  The  last  that  we  heard  of  them, Wallace 
had  a  son  named  Walter,  and  Powers  a  daughter  named 
Amy. 

You  are  right,  Lieutenant,  you  must  be  right.  The  noble 
soul  that  now  lies  in  my  cabin  uneonsciuns,  is  your  nephew, 
your  sister's  son. 

Then  let  us  hasten  to  him. 

No;  not  at  present.     The    Surgeon    has    commanded    the 

strictest  silence. 

? 

Let  me  see  him,  Captain,  if  it  is  but  for  a  single  moment. 
Let  me  see  my  wronged  sister's  son. 

Not  for  worlds,  Lieutenant,  not  for  worlds.  That  one  mo- 
ment might  be  fatal.  That  one  moment  might  destroy  our 
anticipations  of  the  future.  He  is  in  good  hands.  My  wife 
and  your  sister  Cora  are  at  his  side  administering  to  his 
wants. 

How  came  he  to  be  of  your  party?  asked  the  Lieutenant. 

At  the  request  of  Mr.  Webb,  who  reared  and  educated 
him. 

His  education  must  be  limited. 


81 

No,  replied  the  Captain,  not  limited,  but  extended.  No 
man  on  this  ship  is  his  superior — few  his  equal. 

This  will  be  new  and  awkward  business  for  the  ladies,  dif- 
ferent from  nursing  cats — By  the  way  Captain,  1  see  that 
you  have  added  another  to  the  list.  The  one  you  brought  on 
board  appears  to  have  passed  her  three-score  and-tcn.  Iis 
coat  is.a's  white  as  snow. 

That  cat,  replied  the  Captain,  has  a  history,  and  bears  the 
name  of  your  brother's  daughter,  Amy,  and  Walter  would 
tight  for  th.-t  cat  as  he  would  for  the  one  she  is  named  after, 
and  I  had  to  consent  that  the  cat  should  come  on  board  fee- 
fore  he  would  agree  to  become  my  guest. 

Perhaps  that  is  the  boy's  weakness — that  in  his  younger 
days,  he  feU  in  love  with  the  namesake  of  this  cat. 

There  is  no  perhaps  about  it.  It  is  a  fact.  Webb  informed 
me,  that  when  he  and  Walter  were  viewing  the  scene  of  the 
destruction  of  his  home,  the  cat  came  to  him,  and  that  then 
and  there  Walter  raised  his  hand  to  heaven,  and  swore  in 
the  presence  of  his  God  and  his  desolate  home,  that  he  would 
never  love  other  than  Amy  Powers. 

And  does  that  love  still  burn  ?  asked  the  Lieutenant. 

Yes,  replied  the  Captain,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  that  he 
sails  with  us.  He  is  in  search  of  Amy  or  her  friends.  And 
he  has  found  the  latter.  God  grant  that  he  may  be  as  suc- 
cessful in  finding  the  former.  Now  you  must  excuse  me,  as 
I  must  go  and  look  after  my  charge. 


82 
CHAPTER  XII. 

Tracks  in  the  Sand— Caliooiisliee  at  the   Climbing 
Tree  -Indian  Craft  and  White  Man's  Cunning. 
Cahoonsliee  at   th<5>  Stake— Quick 
to   the  Rescue. 


We  left  Amy  and  Drake  at  the  house  of  the  elder  Quick, on 
the  banks  of  the  river  at  Milford.  They  now  understood 
ilirmselves  and  each  other.  By  degrees  Amy's  sadness  wore 
away,  and  she  became  lively  and  cheerful.  When  an  oppor- 
tunity offered,  she  went  with  Drake  on  hunting  and  fishing 
excursions,  and  learned  to  use  the  rifle  with  the  dexterity  of 
and  old  hunter.  Like  most  of  her  sex,  she  was  fond  of  dress, 
and  chose  the  most  gaudy  colors  for  her  attire. 

The  trapping  season  had  now  arrived,  and  the  parties 
went  back  to  the  Shinglekill. 

Cahoonshee  and  Quick  had  not  met  for  several  months. 

I  fear,  said, Cahoonshee,  that  there  will  be  trouble  between 
our  neighbors,  the  Delawares,  and  the  Salamanques. 

Why?  asked  Quick. 

I  saw  on  the  banks  of  the  Mongaup,  to-day,  the  print  of  a 
moccasin  that  plainly  told  me  what  tribe  they  belonged  to. 

Sly  dogs,  those  Salmanques.  They  wiped  out  the  Cahoon- 
shees,  replied  Quick. 

And  we  must  assist  the  Delawares  to  wipe  them  out  now. 

How  ? 

Find  out  what  they  intend  to  do,  and  then  act  accordingly. 
I  think  their  advance  lie  concealed  in  the  bowl.  (A  hollow 
on  the  Pennsylvania  side  of  the  river  opposite  Mongaup.) 

Follow  me,  and  we  will  soon  know. 


The  parties  threw  their  guns   over    their    shoulders,   and 
started  for  the  Hawk  Nest. 

Seating  themselves  on  the  pinnacle,  Ca- 
hoonshee  pointed  up  the  river. 

Does  my  brother  see  that  tall  pine  stand- 
ing on  tne  edge  of  the  rocks,  with  dead 
limbs  in  the  top?  A  few  feet  from  the  top 
of  that  tree  is  the  bowl.  In  that  bowl  lie 
concealed  the  destroyers  of  my  race. 
Brother,  do  you  see  the  smothered  smoke 
that  arises  from  their  Council  fires  ?  I 

must  hear  their  plans. 
CLIMBING  TRES 

Yes,  and  loose  your  life  in  the  adventure,  said  Quick. 

Possibly  yes — probably  no.  But  they  must  be  circumvent- 
ed. Follow  me. 

Tliey  both  started  down  the  rocks,  and  reaching  the  river, 
stepped  into  a  canoe,  and  paddled  for  the  Climbing  Tree. 
(See  Appendix.) 

It  was  now  dark.  Quick  paddled  the  canoe  through  -the 
still  waters  of  Long  Track,  through  Butler's  Falls,  and  enter- 
ed Mongaup  Eddy,  and  continued  until  they  were  opposite 
the  Climbing  Tree. 

Not  a  \vord  had  been  spoken.  Cahoonshee  stepped  out  of 
the  canoe,  and  as  he  did  so  whispered  in  his  companion's 
ear  : 

Watch,  and  remain  silent !  and  then  disappeared  in  the 
impenetrable  darkness. 

Cahoonshee  climbed  the  tree  and  came  in  full  view  of  the 
Salamanques.  They  had  gathered  there  in  large  numbers, 
and  had  with  them  their  squaws  and  papooses.  The  fire 
at  which  the  Chiefs  sat  was  within  a  few  feet  of  where  Ca- 
hoonshee stood,  and  he  could  hear  what  they  said  as  easily 


84 

as  if  he  had  sat  in  their  midst.     It  was  mid-night    when    the 
Council  broke  up.     Cahoonshee  returned  to  the  river. 

D«-n't  use  a  paddle.  Let  the  canoe  float.  These  rocks  have 
ears. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken.  Cahoonshee  sat  with  his  head  in 
his  hands,  thinking  of  the  past  and  meditating  on  the  fu- 
ture. 

Brother,  said  Cahoonshee,  a  plot  is  laid  to  destroy  the  Del- 
a^ires.  If  the  Salanianques  succeed,  there  will  not  be  one 
left  to  tell  the  tale.  But  it  must  not  be.  The  white  man's 
reason  and  the  red  man's  cunning  must  thwart  their  plans. 

And  have  you  a  plan  ? 

I  have  one  that  will  wipe  the  Salamaques  from  the  face  of 
the  earth. 

Can  I  assist  you  brother  ? 

Yes.  Day  after  to-morrow  the  blow  is  to  be  struck.  The 
Delawares  must  be  notified  and  prepared,  not  only  to  defend 
themselves,  but  to  annihilate  their  foes.  To-night  I  will  vis- 
it the  Delawares.  To-morrow,  you  and  the  boys  go  to  the 
round,  white  rock  on  Mount  William.  Carry  with  you  all 
the  strings  that  you  can  make  from  bear,  deer  and  eel  skins. 
Prepare  a  large  quantity  of  pine  knots,  and  I  will  meet  you 
there  at  sun-down  to-morrow. 

Cahoonshee  stepped  into  his  canoe  and  noiselessly  drifted 
down  the  river,  and  just  as  the  silver  streak  of  morning  be- 
gan to  appear,  he  landed  at  the  village  of  the  Delawares,  at 
the  angle  of  the  Neversink  and  Delaware  rivers. 

He  immediately  proceeded  to  the  wigwam  of  the  Chief- 
Early  as  it  was,  the  Cheif  was  up,  and  sat  at  the  door  smok- 
ing. Hawk  Eye, for  such  was  the  Cheif 's  name,  heard  a  rust- 
ling in  the  bushes,  and  looking  up,  saw  the  towering  form 
of  Cahoonshee  approaching. 


85 

Good  morning,  brother;     I  knew  that  you  were  coming. 

How  knew  you  that  ?  But  one  knew  of  my  visit  here,  and 
he  did  not  know  my  motive. 

Say  not  so,  my  brother.  The  Great  Spirit  knows  all,  and 
He  tells  Hawk  Eye  in  a  dream. 

What  did  the  Great  Spirit  say  ? 

The  Great  Spirit  tell  me  in  a  dream  that  Cahoonshee  had 
a  revelation  for  me,  and  I  arose  early  to  meet  you. 

It  is  well.  I  am  here  with  news,  not  from  Heaven,  b<ft 
from  the  Salamanques. 

May  the  Great  Spirit  protect  us  then.  We  can  die  like  our 
fathers  !  exclaimed  Hawk  Eye. 

Yes,  and  fight  like  your  fathers,  rejoined  Cahoonshee. 

Hawk  Eye  ca^t  his  eyes  to  the  ground  and  meditated  for 
a  moment  and  said  :  « 

We  are  feeble  and  count  by  the  hundred.  They  are  strong 
and  count  by  the  thousand.  What  the  Cahoonshees  now  are 
we  soon  will  be. 

What  mean  you,  brother  ? 

I  mean,  replied  the  Chief,  that  the  Cahoonshees  once  lived 
on  these  lands,hunted  through  these  hills  and  fished,  in  these 
streams.  Not  so  now.  Thejr  bodies  lie  in  the  earth.  Their 
scalps  dangle  in  the  lodges  of  the  Salamanques.  One,  and 
only  one,  is  left. 

Will  the  Delawares  act  like  squaws  and  let  the  Salaman- 
ques take  their  scalps  ? 

If  it  is  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

It  is  not  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit. 

Has  Cahoonshee  a  sign  ? 

Yes,  and  you  shall  see  it. 

When,  and  \yhere  ?  brother, 


86 

To-morrow,  replied  Cahoonshee.  When  you  hear  the  first 
war-whoop,  look  to  the  north-west,  and  you  will  see  a  ball  of 
fire  fall  fiom  Heaven  and  strike  the  earth,  and  run  from 
Mount  William  to  the  Delaware  river.  That  is  the  sign. 
The  Great  Spirit  has  decreed  it.  To-morrow  Cahoonshee 
will  have  his  revenge.  To-morrow  the  Salamanques  go  on 
the  war-path  for  the  last  time.  To-morrow  the  rivers  will 
run  with  blood.  Hear  me  Hawk  Eye!  The  Salamanques 
are  in  every  ambush  between  here  and  Lackawoxen.  They 
are  well  prepared  with  canoes  and  rafts.  At  the  rise  of  the 
moon  to-night  they  will  float  down  the  river.  Their  main 
/  force  will  land  at  the  brook  just  above  vou.  Their  younger 

•J  •/  .  O 

braves  will  pass  by  and  return  up  the  Mahackamaek  (Never- 
sink)  to  your  rear.  Those  at  the  brook  will  set  the  woods  en- 
tire on  the  south  side  of  the  brook,  and  as  the  smoke  is  seen 
to  rise  above  the  trees,  the  warriors  on  the  Neversink  will 
rush  on  your  village. 

Not  one  of  us  can    escape,    mournfully    exclaimed    Hawk 
Eye. 

You  shall  all  escape.     But  the  Salamanques  shall  roast    in 
their  own  fire. 

Cahoonshee  wise.     Learned  from    the    white    man.      Tell 
Hawk  Eye  what  to  do  ? 

That  is  what  I  am  here  for.  Send  the  -women,  children 
and  aged  to  the  Holicot  Glen,  above  Peanpack.  Send  a  part 
of  your  forces  on  the  east  side  of  the  Neversink,  and  the  rest 
of  them  on  the  west  side  of  the  Delaware.  When  the  ball  of 
fire  I  have  spoken  of  shall  roll  along  from  Mount  William  to 
the  river,  then  let  your  braves  advance.  The  Salamanques' 
cannot  escape.  They  will  be  between  two  fires,  one  on  their 
east,  and  one  on  their  west.  Then  let  your  braves  advance. 
They  will  be  between  two  fires,  and  your  braves  in  their 
front. 


87 

It  shall  be  as  you  say,  replied  Hawk  Eye. 
'Tis  well.     Watch  for  the   ball  of    fire  !    and    Cahoonshee 
passed  out  of  sight. 

At  this  time  the  angle  of  land  lying  between  the  Delaware 
and  Neversink  rivers  on  which  the  City  of  Port  Jervis  now 
stands  was  one  tangled  forest,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  lo- 
cated the  camping  grounds  of  the  Delawares.  The  banks  of 
the  river  were  studded  with  lofty  white  pine  trees,  whose 
tops  reached  far  toward  the  Heavens.  On  the  south  side  of 
the  brook,  the  majestic  willow  towered  Heavenward,  with 
their  branches  bending  to  and  taken  root  in  the  earth. 
Through  these  willows  the  wild  grape  vine  had  twined  and 
laced  itself,  its  creeping  branches  forming  a  barrier  to  man 
and  beast,  but  fuel  for  the  elements. 

The  Delawares  had  moved  their  effects,  women  and  child- 
ren to  the  Holicot  Glen,  and  placed  their  forces  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  two  rivers,  retaining  sufficient  numbers  at 
their  forsaken  village  to  keep  the  camp  fires  blazing  through 
the  night. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Salamanqxies  had  marshalled  their 
forces,  and  when  the  earth  became  enshrouded  in  the  man- 
tle of  night,they  embarked  on  board  of  canoes  and  rafts  and 
silently  floated  down  the  river,  and  before  the  break  of  day 
had  safely  landed  north  of  the  Spring  Brook,  with  their  wo- 
men and  children.  Apart  of  .heir  warriors  went  by  the  way 
of  the  Tri-States  Rock,  then  i  p  the  Neversink,  as  they  sup- 
posed, in  the  rear  of  the  Dehrvares. 

When  Cahoonshee  left  Hawk  Eye,  he  went  immediately  to 
the  white  rock,  at  Mount  William.  There  he  found  Drake 
the  two  Quick  and  Rolla.  They  had  prepared  a  large  quan- 
tity of  pine  knots,  and  the  preparation  for  the  ball  of  fire  was 
commenced.  The  white  rock  lay  on  a  flat  stone,  requiring 


but  little  effort  t~  move  it.  Around  this  stone,  pine  knots 
were  securely  bwtmd,  with  strings  cut  from  deer  and  bear 
skins. 

Such  was  the  preparation  and  situation  of  the  contending 
parties  on  the  morning  of  the  memorable  Battle  of  the  Nev- 
ersink.  The  sun  rose  over  the  eastern  hills  in  all  its  glory. 
The  wind  blew  from  the  north- west, as  if  to  aid  the  Salaman- 
ques  in  the  work  of  death.  The  torch  is  applied  to  the  thick 
underbrush  at  the  brook.  The  smoke  rises  above  the  tree 
tops.  The  war- whoop  is  sounded  on  the  Neversink,  and  the 
Indian  braves  rush  forward  in  their  anticipated  work  of 
slaughter. 

I  have  my  revenge  !  exclaimed  Cahoonshce,  jumping  on 
the  lever  that  started  the  rock. 

From  rock  to  rock — from  cliff  to  cliff,  the  firy  mass  de- 
scended, tearing  its  way  through  the  wood,  brush  and  trees, 
throwing  off  its  death  dealing  fire,  and  landed  in  the  cool 
waters  of  the  Delaware.  In  its  trail,  flames  burst  forth  that 
ascended  to  the  tree  tops. 

The  Salamanques  were  enclosed  on  two  sides  by  fire,  and 
cut  off  from  retreat  by  the  Neversink  and  Delaware  rivers 
on  the  other  side.  Then  a  rush  is  made  for  the  river,  but 
the  Delawares  have  their  ambush  on  the  Pennsylvania  side, 
and  by  a  deadly  fire,  drive  them  back.  Then  a  rush  is  made 
for  the  Pine  Grove,  thinking  there  was  Gafety  in  climbing  to 
the  uppermost  boughs.  Men.  women  and  children  uttering 
oaths  and  imprecations,  dash  forward.  Deep  into  the  lurid 
waves  of  fire  made  by  the  whirl  of  glowing  smoke,  they  rush- 
ed madly  on — tearing  at  each  other  like  wild  beasts,  and 
smothering  their  yells  beneath  the  luminious  element. 

The  poor  wretches  who  were  to  die  sought  the  darkest 
spots,  and  hid  behind  clumps  of  stone,  stumps  and  bushes,  „ 


89 

or  crept  under  torn  masses  of  wild  vines,  panting  with  terror 
and  dread,  and  trying  to  hold  the  very  breath  that  threaten- 
ed to  destroy  them.  The  Pine  Grove  is  reached.  Madly 
they  climb  to  the  highest  bough.  The  aged  warrior  ascends 
with  the  agility  of  youth.  The  mother  with,  her  babe  lashed 
to  her  back, and  the  youth  springing  from  bough  to  bough.like 
squirrels.  Thus,  they  spring  from  bough  to  bough,  until 
the  trees  are  loaded  down  with  human  freight. 

But  the  fire  rolls  on.  The  cracking  of  brush — the  yells  of 
the  victims,  and  the  fall  of  the  timber,  creates  a  smother!*;;', 
rolling,  thundering  sound.  The  fire  leaps  from  bush  to 
bush — from  tree  to  tree,  until  the  Pine  Grove  is  reached. 
Rosin  on  the  trees  take  fire,  and  a  sheet  of  flame  reaches  the 
upmost  bough.  The  very  elements  are  on  fire.  One  by  one 
they  drop  into  the  surging  flames  below — roasted,blackened, 
withered  corpses. 

Their  friends  on  the  Neversink  fare  no  better.  When  the 
smoke  was  seen  above  the  tree  tops,  they  advanced,  thinking 
to  drive  the  Delawares  back  into  the  fire,  or  mercilessly  dis- 
patch them  with  the  tomahawk.  But  they  found  no  ene- 
my. And  while  they  were  wondering  what  had  become  of 
them,  they  saw  a  ball  of  Sre  pass  like  a  dart  of  lighning  from 
heaven  to  earth,  and  heard  the  shrieks  of  their  friends  in  the 
midst  of  it.  Then  confusion  and  disorder  ensued,  and  they 
retreated  back  to  the  Neversink. 

As  they  reached  the  river,they  were  met  by  the  Delawares, 
who  rec  eived  them  with  a  deadly  fire,  which  caused  many  of 
them  to  bite  the  earth. 

But  the  fire  was  upon  them.  It  was  either  drown  or  burn. 
They  choose  the  former,  and  rushed  for  the  river.  This  be- 
came their  burial  place,  and  their  bodies  became  food  for 
the  fishes. 


90 

As  they  poured  over  the  bank,  the  cool  and  collected  Del- 
awares  dispatched  them  with  the  tomahawk  and  scalping 
knife,  and  the  crystal  waters  of  the  Neversink  were  colored 
with  blood. 

The  victory  was  complete.  Nearly  alr.  that  had  so  silent- 
ly floated  down  the  river  the  night  before,  were  now  locked 
in  the  cold  embrace  of  death,  and  as  the  sun  set  in  the  west- 
ern horizon,  and  the  earth  became  enshrouded  in  the  man- 
tle of  night,  death  reigned  in  silence. 

While  the  conflagation  was  going  on,  and  while  the  flames, 
like  forked  arrows  were  hissing  through  the  branches  of  the 
trees,  and  amid  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  burning  and  dy- 
ing, which  could  be  heard  above  the  crackling  of  the  falling 
wood,  the  tall,  erect  form  of  Cahoonshee  appeared  in  the 
front  ground,  on  the  highest  pinnacle  of  Point  Peter,  with 
Rolla  standing  by  his  side.  Feelin-gs  of  satisfaction  and  re- 
gret occupied  his  mind.  Satisfaction  that  the  murderers  of 
his  fathers  were  punished.  Regret  that  the  white  man  would 
sieze  upon  this  opportunity  to  appropriate  the  land  to  them- 
selves. 

The  smoke  lifts  for  a  moment,  and  looking  toward  Mount 
William, he  saw  the  forms  of  five  dusky  Salamanques  crouch-i 
ing  in  the  brush. 

It  is  finished,  he  said,  My  time  has  come.  But  I  will  not 
die  by  the  hands  of  the  Salamanques.  I  will  throw  myself 
from  these  rocks,  and  be  buried  by  my  friends,  the  Dela^r 
wares. 

You  die  by  the  fagot — not  by  the  fall  !  exclaimed  a  voice 
behind  him. 

Turning,  he  saw  three  tomahawks  raised.  To  advance  op 
retreat  was  impossible. 

J  am  yours,  exclaimed  Cahoonshee.     Do  your  pleasure, 


01 

It  is  no  pleasure  to  kill  a  dog — a  coward  ! 

Coward  !  ejaculated  Cahoonshee. 

Yes — a  faint  hearted  woman,afraid  to  meet  death  like  your 
fathers.  You  were  about  to  meet  death  by  throwing  your 
self  from  the  rocks  to  save  being  tortured  by  fire. 

Cahoonshee  keenly  felt  the  reproach. 

I  rely  on  the  Great  Spirit,  he  said.  If  it  is  His  will  the 
fire  will  not  burn. 

Did  the  Great  Spirit  kindle  the  fire  that  roasted  my  peopk? 

Yes,  through  my  agency  he  sent  fire  from  the  ski~s  and 
consumed  the  Salamanques.  Do  your  worst.  I  have  had  my, 
revenge.  Years  ago  you  destroyed  my  tribe.  Their  bodies 
lay  mouldering  in  yonder  hill,  and  their  scalps  hang  in  your 
lodges.  I  dlone  am  left.  Many  suns  have  I  seen  rise. 

You  will  see  it  rise  but  once  more.  At  sun  rise  to-morrow, 
the  Skull  Rock  will  be  lit  up,and  Cahoonshee  will  die  a  ci-vv- 
ard  at  the  stake. 

Cahoonshee  remained  silent. 

Is  the  great  warrior  dumb  ?  asked  the  Chief. 

Yes,  when  he  talks  to    the    Great    Spirit.      And    stooping 
down,  he  picked  up  a  piece  of  slate  stone  and  wrote  upon    it  : 
"  Prisoner.     To  be  burned  at  the  stake    at    sun-risa    to- 
morrow at  Skull  Rock." 

Take  this  (addressing  the  dog)  to  your  Master. 

The  dog  seized  it  and  bounded  down  the  rocks. 

See,  said  the  Chief,  the  dog  is  ashamed  of  the  cowardly 
spirit  of  his  Master. 

Cahoonshee's  hands  were  then  tied  behind  him;  and  the 
march  to  Skull  Rock  commenced.  Their  course  was  north- 
west until  they  reached  Mongaup.  Then  over  the  ridge  to 
Fish  Cabin  Brook.  Then  up  the  cliff  to  Skull  Rock, 


92 

This  was  the  place  where  for  years  the  Indians  had  tor- 
tured their  prisoners  by  burning  them  at  the  stake, and  skulls 
were  frequently  found  on  the  ground.  It  was  a  high  pinna- 
cle rising  several  hundred  feet  above  the  water  of  the  Dela- 
are,  and  the  rocks  hanging  over  the  river.  (See  Appendix,)  • 

The  Quicks  and  Drake,  as  soon  as  the  fire  ball  started,  re- 
turned to  their  cabin  on  the  Shinglekill,and  viewed  from  the 
distance  the  fire  and  smoke  that  ascended  above  the  battle: 
field  on  the  Neversink. 

The  sun  had  just  set  when  Rolla  came  bounding  in  and 
dropped  a  stone  at  Drake's  feet,  and  then  whined  as  if  in 
distress. 

The  dog  means  something,  said  the  elder  Quick. 

In  the  meantime  Drake  had  picked  up  the  slate  and  was 
trying  to  decipher  the  marks  on  it. 

Here  is  somthing  about  the  Skull  Rock,  but  that  is  all  I 
can  make  out. 

That  means  that  Cahoonshee  is  in  trouble — perhaps  a  pris- 
oner. Dry  the  stone  and  you  can  read  it  better. 

Drake  held  the  stone  to  the  fire,  and  then  read  : 
"  Prisoner.     To  be  burned  at  the  stake  at  sunrise,  to-morrow 
at  Skull  Rock." 

Our  friend  is  doomed,  exclaimed  Drake,  can  we  do  any- 
thing to  free  him  ?  That  depends  on  how  many  Indians 
there  are  with  him.  We  saw  several  hundred  go  down  the 
river  but  none  have  returned.  If  they  go  to  the  rock  in  force 
we  cannot  help  him.  But  they  usually  take  but  six  or  eight 
on  such  occasicns,  a»d  with  my  knowledge  of  the  ground 
and  the  under  ground  approach,  I  think  we  could  rescue  him. 

Let  us  try,  said  Tom.  I  will  take  my  chances.  There  is 
an  under  ground  approach  to  that  place,  known  only 
to  Cahoonshee  and  myself,  said  the  elder  Quick.  It  will  be 


93 

several  hours  before  sunrise  and  we  have  time  to  get  there 
and  make  our  arrangements.  Put  new  flints  in  your  guns 
and  fill  the  knapsacks  with  provisions  and  ammunition. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  evening.  The  night  was  clear,  with 
full  moon  as  the  parties  started  on  their  errand  of  mercy. 
They  had  about  six  miles  to  travel  to  reach  their  destination. 
Their  course  lay  along  the  north  bank  of  the  river  until  they 
reached  the  foot  of  the  cliff.  Reaching  that  point,  Quick  ad- 
monished the  boys  to  be  careful,  as  the  least  misstep  would 
throw  them  down  the  rocks.  The  ascent  was  almost  perpin- 
dicular.  They  climbed  up  rock  after  rock  by  clinging  to  the 
roots  until  they  had  ascended  two  thirds  of  the  mountain. 
Here  was  a  projecting  table  rock  on  which  had  grown  a  mas- 
sive birch  tree.  And,  under  this  was  a  fissure  in  the  rock 
that  led  to  the  top.  The  entrance  to  this  fissure  was  directly 
behind  the  birch  treo,  and  was  so  small  that  it  was  difficult 
for  a  man  to  creep  through.  From  this  point  to  the  top  there 
was  a  sudden  rise  of  five  or  six  feet,  which  was  about  one 
hundred  feet  from  the  tree  where  the  victim  was  to  be  bound. 
Up  through  this  narrow  gulch  the  party  proceeded  until  the 
top  is  reached,  the  elder  Quick  taking  the  lead  and  Rolla 
bringing  up  the  rear.  Daylight  was  just  appearing,  but  it 
would  be  an  hour  more  before  sunrise,  and  this  left  them 
time  to  perfect  their  arrangements.  This  was,  that  each  man 
should  pick  out  his  man  and  fire  at  the  same  tirrje.  Then  the 
two  Quicks  should  rush  out  with  their  knives  and  release  Ca- 
hoonshee,  leaving  Drake  and  Rolla  free  to  rush  on  the  ene- 
my. A  sharp  lookout  is  kept  in  the  direction  that  the  eme- 
my  is  expected.  At  last  their  gaze  was  awarded,  nearly  a 
half  a  mile  off  five  Indians  were  seen  approaching  with  Ca- 
hoonshee  in  their  midst.  When  within  fi v<^  hundred  feet,  one 
of  the  Indians  advanced  and  minutely  examined  the  ground. 
Not  seeing  anything  to  excite  his  suspicion,  he  signaled  the 
rest  of  the  party  and  they  advanced. 


94: 

Cahoonshee  was  tied  to  a  tree  and  wood  piled  around 
when  the  chief  addressed  him  : — Thus  dies  the  white  man's 
friend,  once  the  great  Cahoonshee,  now  a  lying  dog,  a  craven 
coward.  Now  call  on  the  white  man's  God.  Now  see  if  he 
will  save  you. 

Coward  I  may  be,  but  Her  I  am  not  ;  I  told  the  Delawares 
the  truth  and  they  believed  me. 

What  did  you  tell  Delaware  dogs  ? 

I  told  them  of  your  plan  to  destroy  them.  With  all  your 
cunning  I  heard  your  plans  at  the  climbing  tree.  You  de- 
stroyed my  Fathers,  I  helped  destroy  your  Nation.  Do  your 
worst,  vSalamanque;  do  your  worst,  you  may  have  my  scalp  to 
take  to  your  village  in  the  place  of  a  thousand  warriors,  now 
smoking  in  yonder  fire.  Cahoonshee  has  had  his  revenge. 
Kindle  your  fire.  Roast  me  alive.  Ha  !  Ha  !  Ha  ! 

The  exasperated  chief  ordered  the  fire  kindled.  At  that 
instant,  Drake  gave  the  imitation  of  the  tree  toad,  and  three 
guns  belched  forth,  and  three  dusky  Indians  bit  the  earth  in 
death.  At  the  same  instant,  the  two  Quicks  sprang  forward 
to  release  Cahoonshee.  Rolla  went  for  the  fourth  Indian  and 
soon  had  him  by  the  throat.  Drake  made  for  the  remain- 
ing one  with  his  knife.  At  the  discharge  of  the  guns  the 
survivor  seized  his  bow  and  arrows  and  drew  it  on  Drake. 
But  Drake  was  so  close  to  him  that  the  arrow  flew  over  his 
head.  But  in  so  doing,  he  lost  his  knife.  Then  they  grap- 
pled in  deadly  combat  and  struggled  toward  the  precipice 
that  yawned  several  hundred  feet  beneath  them,  each  one 
exerting  himself  might  and  main  to  throw  the  other  over 
and  save  himself.  The  brink  is  reached,  and  Drake  hurled 
the  Indian  off,  but  his  own  momentum  carried  him  off,  and 
they  both  disappeared  in  the  abyss  below. 

Saved,  exclaimed  Tom  as  he  sundered  the  last  thong  that 
bound  Cahoonshee. 


Yes,  but  at  a  fearful  cost.  A  young  life  has  gone  out  to 
save  an  old  wreck  that  nature  will  soon  remove. 

What  mean  you,  Cahootishee  ? 

I  mean  that  Drake  has  gone  to  the  spirits-land.  Did  you 
not  see  him  leap  from  the  cliff  and  follow  the  Indian  in  his 
downward  flight  ? 

So  sudden  had  been  the  charge,  and  exciting  the  contest 
that  the  Quicks  had  failed  to  see  the  fearful  leap  that  Drake 
and  the  Indian  had  taken,  and  for  the  moment  were  speech- 
less. 

There,  said  Cahoonshee,  pointing  to  the  highest  point  of 
the  cliff,  there  is  where  they  went  down  and,  now  lays  a  mang- 
led corpse  at  the  bottom.  But  we  must  find  the  body. 

Just  then  Rolla  set  up  a  howl  that  echoed  up  and  down  the 
valley. 

That  means  something,  exclaimed  Cahoonshee,  go  and  see 
what  the  dog  is  making  such  a  noise  about. 

Tom  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice  and  looked  over. 
Some  hundred  feet  down  he  saw  a  dark  object  in  a  large  birch 
tree. 

What  do  you  see,  asked  the  elder  Quick. 

A  man,  replied  Tom,  but  whether  it  is  Drake  or  the  Indian 
I  cannot  tell. 

It  is  Drake,  exclaimed  Cahoonshee.  The  dog  would  have 
remained  silent  if  it  had  been  the  Indian.  Speak,  and  see  if 
he  will  answer  you. 

just  then  Drake's  voice  was  heard  deep  down  the  mountain 

Hello,  Drake,  is  that  you  ? 

Yes. 

Are  you  hurt  ? 

No,  but  I  am  wedge:!  in  the  crotch  of  the  tree  and  can't 
get  out. 


96 

Tom,  tell  him  to  remain  quiet  a  few  minutes  and  we  will 
help  him  out,  said  Cahoonshee. 

Quick  and  Cahoonshee  trimmed  up  a  grape  vine  and  low- 
ered it  down  to  Drake.  He  tied  it  around  his  body  and  by 
the  united  strength  of  those  on  the  cliff,,  Drake  was  hauled 
to  the  top. 


»"•:£»#*":  -SHSe  .'•••••-.:      •  :-= 


•  KESCUE    OF    DKAKE    AT    SKULL    ROCJC. 

Bravo  boy  !  Bravo  boy  !  exclaimed  Cahoonshee,  the  great 
spirit  is  on  your  side. 

That  may  be,  replied  Drake,  but  if  it  had  not  been  for  you 
and  the  grape-vine,  I  think  I  should  have  hung  there,  until 
the  Crows  had  picked  my  bones, 


97 

Say  not  that,  said  Cahoonshee,  it  was  God's  plain  to  save 
you.  He  gave  instinct  to  the  dog  to  smell  you  out.  He  gave 
growth  and  strength  to  the  vine  to  pull  you  up.  And  to  us 
the  common  instincts  of  humanity  to  save  you. 

But  we  must  be  going.  We  are 
not  beyond  danger  yet.  Let  us 
return  to  the  Shinglekill  and 
make  arrangements  for  the  fu- 
ture. 

And  leave  the  Indians  unbur- 
ied  ?  said  Drake. 

Yes,  leave  them  as  they  would 
have  left  us — for  the  wild  beasts 
to  pick  their  bones.  See,the  vul- 
tures have  already  scented  their 
carcases. 


CAHOONSHEE  AND  HAWK  EYE 
PLANNING  THE  DESTRUCT- 
ION OF  THE  SALAMANQUES. 


The  parties  then  wound  their 
way  down  the  rocks  to  the  river, 
and  from  there  down  the  north 
back  to  the  cabin  on  the  Shingle- 
kill.,  Cahoonshee  seemed  to  be  down  cast  and  despondent, 
sitting  alone  under  the  butternut  trees,  with  his  body  bent 
forward  and  his  head  clasped  in  his  hands.  Drake  watched 
him  for  some  time,  but  was  unable  to  discover  his  trouble 
when  the  words  he  heard  him  speak  at  the  Skull  Rock  came 
to  his  mind — 

"  We  are  not  out  of  danger  yet !  " 

What  troubles  Cahoonshee  ?     Is  it  the  danger  you  spoke  of 
at  the  .Skull  Rock  ? 

Yes,  in  part.  There  is  still  danger  of  the  Salamanques 
They  wi'.l  hunt  me  down.  But  there  is  another  danger  that 
threatens  the  lives  of  all  the  white  people  between  the  Hud- 
son and  Delawares  Rivers.  I  cannot  tell  when  the  blow  will 


98 

bo  struck.  It  may  be  a  month — it  may  be  years.  The  In- 
dians feel  their  wrongs  deeply.  They  see  the  whites  in- 
crease and  the  Indians  diminish.  They  know  that  by  false- 
hood and  intrigue  they  have  been  deprived  of  their  land. 
They  see  from  the  Hudson  on  the  east,  to  the  Delaware  on 
west,  and  to  Kingston  on  the  north,  the  white  man  has  taken 
possession  of  the  land  and  the  Indian  is  being  driven  west. 
Both  banks  of  the  Delaware  from  Milford  to  the  Neversink 
are  now  dotted  with  the  white  man's  house,  and  the  lodge  of 
the  Indian  has  passed  away.  The  Neversink  valley  and  the 
Peanpack  flats  are  occupied  by  Hollanders  and  French,  and 
their  cry  is  "  Indian,  go  West."  The  spirit  of  the  Indian  is 
broken,  but  their  religion  remains  the  same.  Revenge  is  a 
part  of  their  religion.  Revenge  they  have  resolved  on, and  a 
terrible  revenge  it  will  be.  Before  many  moons  have  passed 
a  general  uprising  will  take  place  from  the  Hudson  to  the 
Lakes.  Men,  women  and  children  will  be  killed  and  scalped, 
their  houses  and  barns  burned,  their  property  destroyed, 
their  homes  made  desolate,  and  all  will  be  desolation  and 
death.  The  Indian  will  have  his  revenge  and  go  west.  The 
white  man  will  follow.  The  Indian  will  turn  again,  and  the 
ravages  of  Indian  warfare  will  be  repeated. 

And  thus,  for  generation  after  generation,  the  war  of 
races  will  go  on  until  the  last  red  man  is  driven  over  the 
western  slope  and  their  bones  are  buried  in  the  Pacific.  It 
is  nature's  decree.  The  Indian  must  go.  The  places  that 
know  them  now,  will  soon  know  them  no  more  forever. 

To  me  and  my  people  it  will  make  no  difference.  They 
are  gone  and  I  must  follow  them  soon.  I  have  but  one  wish 
to  gratify.  Let  that  wish  be  gratified,  and  I  can  resign  my- 
self to  the  keeping  of  the  great  "  I  Am." 

Here  Cahoonshee  bowed  his  head  again  and   remain  silent. 


99 

What  is  it  you  wish  to  accomplish  that  seems  to  be  as  dear 
to  you  as  life  itself?  asked  Drake. 

I  wish  to  find  your  parents.  That  accomplished,  I  can  die 
with  pleasure.  Drake,  you  have  now  arrived  at  the  age  of 
manhood,  and  unlike  Tom,  you  have  employed  your  time  in 
improving  your  mind.  There  are  but  few  in  these  colonies 
who  are  better  qualified  than  you  to  enter  upon  active  life. 
You  have  been  a  dutiful  son  to  me,  and  I  have  tried  to  be  to 
you  a  kind  father.  In  the  course  of  nature  we  must  soon 
part,  I  to  lay  myself  down,  you  to  enter  upon  the  active  du- 
ties of  life.  I  have  therefore  resolved  to  go  in  search  of 
your  parents  and  take  you  with  me.  We  must  prepare  at 
once,  and  day  after  to-morrow  we  must  bid  good-bye  to  the 
Shinglekill  and  our  friends.  We  will  go  first  to  Kings- 
ston,  and  then  down  the  Hudson  to  Manhatten.  At  one  of 
these  places  I  think  that  we  will  get  information  that  will 
lead  us  to  find  your  father. 

What  reason  have  you  for  thinking  that  my  father  is  to  be 
found  there  ?  asked  Drake. 

The  mark  on  your  breast  is  my  guide.  Undoubtedly  the 
letters  "  C.  D."  represent  your  name.  But  whether  it  is 
Drake,  Davis  or  Daniels  ,  I  don't  know.  The  letters  '•'  E  N." 
I  am  satisfied  stands  for  English  Navy.  Therefore,  I  expect 
to  learn  some  thing  about  your  father  by  inquiring  on  board 
of  the  English  war-ships. 

But  you  have  never  said  anything  about  this  before. 

I  had  my  reason  for  that,  and  in  time  you  will  appreciate 
them.  To-morrow  we  must  take  up  the  .bee  tree,  and  the 
next  day  start  on  our  journey. 

Drake  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  Cahoonshce  had 
come  to  such  a  sudden  conclusion.  He  could  readily  see 
why  he*  should  fear  the  Sajamanques,but  he  had  not 


100 

ered  anything  to  lead  him  to  think  that  there  would  be  trouble 
between  the  whites  and  the  Indians.  Yet  he  placed  implicit 
confidence  in  what  Cahoonshee  said,  and  intended  to  follow 
his  advice.  Yet  to  leave  the  Delaware  Valley,  and  above  all, 
to  leave  Amy,  cost  him  a  pang". 

That  night  it  was  arranged  that  the  next  day  they  would 
go  and  take  up  the  bee  tree,  and  then  the  Quicks  and  Amy 
should  return  to  the  Milford  farm,  and  Cahoonshee  and 
Drake  should  start  for  Kingston. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Dead  Shot— The  Bee  Tree— Amy  a  Prisoner  in  the  Hands 

of  the  Indians —Drake  and  Holla  in  Pursuit— A 

Yiew  of  the  Hudson. 


That  night  Drake  anil  Amy  had  a  long  and  confidential 
talk.  The  next  morning,  the  party,  accompanied  by  Rolla, 
started  for  the  tree,  which  was  standing  at  the  junction  of 
the  Steneykill  and  Shinglekill. 

As  they  approached  the  banks  of  the  Steneykill,  Rolla 
placed  his  nose  to  the  ground,  barked  and  ran  in  the  woods. 
Cahoonshee  cast  his  eyes  to  the  ground. 

What  track  is  that  ?  pointing  to  an  indenture  in  the 
ground.  My  eyes  begin  to  fail  me. 

That  is  the  print  of  a  moccasin,  said  Drake. 

Is  it  a  Salamanque  ?  ejaculated  Cahoonshee. 

I  think  not,  said  Quick.  It  is  a  new  track  to  me.  It  is 
neither  Salamanque  or  Delaware.  Here,  Drake,  look  at  it 
with  your  young  eyes. 

Drake  got  down  on  his  knees  and  examined  it  for  sev- 
eral minutes.  Then  rising,  called  Rolla. 


101 

Cahoonshee,  said  Drake,  did  you  ever  see  the  print  of  a 
moccasin  worn  by  a  Stockbridge  ?  If  my  memory  serves  me 
right,  the  print  was  made  by  one  of  the  tribe  that  stole  me 
from  my  parents.  For  what  purpose  are  they  in  these  parts? 

Cahoonshee  then  examined  the  tracks. 

It  is  many  years  since  I  have  seen  a  Stockbridge  or  their 
tracks,  but  I  think  Drake  is  right.  You  fell  the  tree,  and 
Rolla  and  I  will  follow  the  trail  and  learn  their  number. 
You,  Quick,  go  to  the  top  of  the  bluff  and  keep  a  good  look- 
out for  the  enemy,  for  such  I  take  them  to  be.  You  boys 
plug  the  hole  and  chop  the  tree  down. 

Tom  climbed  the  tree,  carrying  with  him  a  quantity  of 
moss  dipped  in  tar, and  plastered  it  over  the  hole,thus  effect- 
ively preventing  the  bees  from  coming  out.  Then  returning 
to  the  ground,  he  and  Drake  went  vigorously  to  work  to 
chop  the  tree  down. 

About  this  time  Cahoonshee  returned  and  reported  that 
there  were  five  Indians  in  the  party, and  were  going  towards 
the  Mongaup. 

The  party  now  proceeded  to  smother  the  bees,  by  smoking 
them  with  brimstone.  This  was  soon  accomplished,  and  sev- 
eral pails  were  Slled  with  honey,  then  the  party  started  to 
return. 

As  they  were  crossing  the  Shinglekill  about  half  a  mile 
from  the  cabin,  Rolla  gave  three  loud  barks  and  jumped 
towards  Drake. 

That  is  the  bark  the  dog  always  gives  when  he  sees  or 
hears  Amy,  said  Tom. 

And  here;  said  Drake,  is  the  moccasin  track  again.  I  fear 
that  this  forbodes  trouble  for  those  we  left  in  the  cabin. 

Look  to  the  priming  in  your  guns,  and  be  quick.  There  is 
no  time  to  loose,  said  Cahoonshee. 


102 

This  was  a  dark  and  adventnrious  day  for  Amy.  When 
the  party  left  in  the  morning,  she  began  to  realize  how  lone- 
some she  would  be  without  Drake.  Although  she  claimed 
that  Walter  Wallace  owned  her  whole  heart,  and  none  but 
him  should  ever  call  her  wife,  yet  to  part  from  Drake,  even 
for  a  short  time,  gave  her  pain.  She  began  to  doubt  her 
constancy  for  Walter,  and  admitted  to  herse'lf  that  Drake  oc- 
cupied a  small  corner  of  her  heart.  Yet  she  was  determined 
t"  be  cheerful,  and  that  the  parting  between  her  and  Drake 
should  be  of  an  affectionate  character.  To  that  end,  she  put 
on  her  blue  flannel  dress,  decked  herself  with  flowers,  braid- 
ed her  long,  flowing  hair,over  which  she  placed  her  gypsy 
hat  and  took  a  chair  besides  Betsy  to  await  their  return. 
She  had  hardly  seated  herself,  when  she  heard  the 
squirrels  chattering  in  the  butternut  trees  in  front  of  the 
cabin. 

I  am  going  to  shoot  one  of  those  squirrels,  she  said  to  Bet- 
sy. ' 

Oh  no,  child,  don't  hurt  them. 

I  won't  hurt  them,  aunty,  I  will  kill  them  ^o  quick  that 
they  won't  feel  it;  and  taking  her  gun,  stepped  out  of  doors. 
There  were  several  squirrels  in  the  tree,  but  she  choose  the 
highest.  At  the  report  of  the  gun,  the  squiirel's  head  drop- 
ped to  the  ground,  but  the  body  remained  in  the  tree.  She 
felt  proud  of  the  shot,  and  darted  up  the  tree.  When  she 
had  nearly  reached  the  top,  her  attention  was  drawn  to  the 
woods  on  the  north  bank,  and  nearly  in  line  with  her  moth 
er's  grave.  There  lay,  crouched  in  the  bushes,  five  Indians 
in  full  war  dress.  She  thought  that  this  meant  mischief,  but 
how  to  avert  it  she  did  not  know.  She  first  determined 
to  load  her  gun,  and  shoot  the  first  one  that  approached  her. 
Then  she  thought  that  this  would  enrage  the  Indians,  and 
they  would  kill  and  scalp  both  her  and  Betsy.  Then  she 
thought  that  perhaps  they  meant  no  harm,  and  had  come 
only  to  get  something  to  eat. 


103 

Oil  !  how  I  wish  Drake  and  Cahoonshee  were  here.  Per- 
haps they  will  carry  me  off,and  who  can  find  me  ?  Drake  will 
if  possible.  And  picking  up  a  piece  of  charcoal,  wrote  on 
the  door  what  she  had  seen  and  what  she  feared,  describing 
the  Indians,  their  dress  paint  and  feathers.  Sae  had 
just  finished  the  writing,  when  the  Indians  came  in  the 
door.  The  leader  advanced  and  said  : 

Pretty  squaw — good  shot — bring  squirrel's  head  down — 
leave  body  in  tree.  Make  me  good  squaw — shoot  my  deer — 
cook  my  corn. 

Am}',  although  she  understood  every  word  he  said,  pre- 
tended she  could  not  understand  him,  and  made  signs  to 
that  effect. 

Time  is  precious,  said  one  in  the  rear.  Cahoonshee  will 
soon  be  upon  us. 

This  convinced  Amy  that  the  Indians  knew  that  the  men 
were  not  at  home  and  might  soon  return.  If  she  could  de- 
tain them,  perhaps  Drake  would  arrive.  She  offered  them 
something  to  eat.  This  was  refused.  Then  the  Indian  that 
first  approached  her,  drew  from  his  belt  some  deer-skin 
strings.  Amy  read  her  doom.  She  was  to  be  bound  and  car- 
ried off.  As  resistance  was  useless,  she  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion to  quietly  submit. 

She  then  made  gestures  that  she  would  go  with  themwithout 
tying,  but  the  wiley  savages  would  not  permit  that,but  tying 
a  throng  around  her  neck,  ordered  her  to  march. 

Betsy  had  been  a  silent  and  interested  spectator  of  the 
scene  that  had  passed  before  her.  Amy  had  informed  her 
in  Dutch  what  she  supposed  the  Indians  intended  to  do  with 
her. 

Tell  Drake  that  I  am  going  to  King.' ton  ahead  of  him, that 
I  have  been  taken  by  the  Indians— the  same  tribe  that 
stole  him  when  he  was  a  babe. 


Here  she  was  cut  short  and  forced  from  the  house.  The 
Indians  gagged  and  tied  Betsy  fast  to  her  chair  and  left  her. 

Their  course  was  north-west,  and  Amy  resolved  to  go  wil- 
lingly and  escape  at  the  first  opportunity.  The  Indians  said 
but  little,  but  that  little  she  understood  perfectly,  and  soon 
learned  the  object  of  the  Indians'  visit  to  that  section.  It 
was  not  to  capture  her,  but  Drake.  That  a  ship  was  at 
Kingston,  and  they  wanted  Drake  to  sell  to  the  Captain,  that 
the  young  brave  at  her  side  was  a  son  of  the  Chief  of  the 
tribe,  that  he  saw  her  when  she  came  out  of  the  house,  dress- 
ed like  a  queen,  with  the  gun  in  her  hand.  He  saw  her  aim 
at  the  squirrel  and  the  head  fall.  He  saw  her  climb  the 
tree  with  the  agility  of  a  squirrel,  and  resolved  to  take  her 
to  his  tribe  and  make  her  his  wife — the  queen  of  his  lodge. 

Amy  was  satisfied  that  her  friends  would  pursue  and 
rescue  her  if  possible.  She  understood  the  instinct  of  the 
dog,  and  knew  that  Rolla  would  find  their  trail  and  follow 
it. 

The  Indians  moved  with  all  possible  speed,  but  Amy  was 
equal  to  the  emergency.  They  crossed  the  ridge  about  half 
a  mile  north  of  Hawk's  Nest,  and  bent  their  way  towards 
Mongaup  River.  It  was  dark  when  they  reached  the  River, 
and  here,  for  the  first  time,  the  Indians  changed  their  tac- 
tics, and  endeavored  to  hide  their  trail.  Two  of  the  Indians 
took  hold  of  Amy's  hand,  one  on  each  side,  and  stepped  in 
the  cool  waters  of  the  Mongaup,  and  started  up  stream. 

Amy  was  well  acquainted  with  all  the  rivers  and  streams, 
having  accompanied  Tom  and  Drake  on  their  fishing  excur- 
sions after  the  speckled  trout,  in  which  the  river  abounded, 
but  the  forest  was  so  dense  and  the  night  so  dark,  that  she 
could  not  locate  the  spot.  After  wading  through  the  water 
for  about  two  hours,  they  turned  into  a  gulch  of  the  moun- 
tains through  which  a  small  stream  flowed,  the  Indians  be-» 


105 

ing  particular  that  every  step  should  be  in  the  water,  so  as  to 
leave  no  trail.  In  their  ascent,  they  were  required  to  climb 
over  falls  five  and  six  feet  in  height.  Thus  they  traveled  in 
total  darkness  for  an  hour,  when  a  familiar  sound  struck 
Amy's  ear.  She  heard  the  roaring  water  and  surging  eater- 
act.  She  knew  the  sound  and  could  locate  the  place  as  eas- 
ily as  she  could  by  daylight.  It  was  Bushkill  Falls,  a  nar- 
row, deep  glen,  with  rocks  ascending  on  both  sides  several 
hundred  feet  high.  The  Falls  are  in  sections,  and  drop 
abqut  two  hundred  feet.  The  largest,  at  the  bottom,  is  forty 
feet,  and  drops  into  a  basin  below.  It  is  seventy-five  feet  in 
diameter,  and  is  alive  with  trout.  To  the  right  of  the  basin 
is  the  much  dreaded  snake  den — the  largest  ever  known. 
Here,  at  any  time  between  May  and  November,  the  rattler 
and  copperhead  are  to  be  f  ound,in  May  when  they  go  ottt,and 
November  when  they  go  in, and  can  be  counted  by  the  hun- 
dreds. All  kinds  of  snakes  burrow  together  in  harmony 
during  the  winter.  The  green  snake  of  twelve  inches  and 
the  blacksnake  of  twelve  feet  lie  side  by  side,  locked  in  the 
cold  embrace  of  frost. 

At  the  foot  of  the  Falls,  and  at  the  margin  of  the  basin, the 
Indians  encamped.  The  outlet  of  this  basin  was  by  two 
small  streams.  By  removing  a  few  stones  on  one  side,,  and 
making  a  small  dam  on  the  other  side,  one  of  the  brooks  is 
,  dried  up.  The  Indians  did  this  and  caught  a  number  of  large 
trout.  Then  they  rubbed  two  ash  sticks  together  and  started 
a  fire,and  roasted  the  fish. 

Thus,  Amy  partook  of  her  first  meal  in  captivity.  During 
the  eating  of  the  meal,  a  conversation  was  carried  on  be- 
tween two  of  the  Indians,  in  which  she  learned  that  she  was 
to  be  carried  to  a  cave  on  the  east  side  of  the  Hudson,  and 
detained  there  until  she  consented  to  become  his  wife.  She 
immediately  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this  was  the  same 


106 

cave  that  Drake  was  imprisoned  iirwhen  a  ehild.      How  could 
she  communicate  this  fact  to  Drake  ?     She  was  reclining  'on  ' 
her  side  on  a  large  flat  rock.      Taking    a    small    stone,   she 
noislessly  wrote  on  the  flat  stone  : 

"  Going  to  the  cave  from  whence  you  came.     Amy;" 

Then  the  march  was  resumed  up  the  Falls  and  almost  in 
sight  of  Cahoonshee's  cabin.  Then  up  the  -Steneykill  and 
over  Handy  Hill  to  the  Neversink  River. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  describe  the  rout  or  the  incid.en.ts  : 
that  took  place  on  their  way  to  Kingston.      Suffice  it   to   say 
that  Amy  was  treated  with,  respect  by  the  one  who  expected 
to  make  her  his  wife. 

But  two  incidents  occurred    worthy    of    notice    on    their- 
march.    tOu  the  day  before  they  reached  the    Hudson,   they 
were  traveling  on  a  trail  that  appeared    to    be    much    used, 
The  Chief  was  ahead  and  Amy  forty    or    fifty    feet    be, hind  . 
him,  and  the  rest  of  the  party   were    two  or    three    hundred 
feet  behind  her,  when  apparently  from  the  highest    tree,  the 
shrill  voice  of  the  tree  toad  was  heard/    Amy  raised.her  eyes 
to  the  tree  and  thought  to  herself  :  .    .>  . 

"That  is  Drake's  imitation  of  the  tree  toad.     But  if  it  isi,  I  •' 
shall  bear  the  blue  jay  scream,"     And  without  slackning  hot 
pace,  passed  on.  ,.  » 

Just  after  the  rest  of  the  column  had  pass"ed,  the  familiar 
sound  of  the  blue  jay  was  heard.      By  this  Amy    knew   that, 
her  friends  were  near.      But    how    they  could  extricate  her, . . 
she  could  not  see,    and  hoped  that  Drake    would  put    it    off 
until  after  she  had  reached  the  cave. 

They  did  not  travel  on  the  direct  trail,  but  kept  west  on^ 
the  ridge,  and  whenever  they  came  to  a  stream  of  water,! 
traveled  in  that,  so  as  to  leave  no  trail.  -;  ,  > 


.107 

'  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  from  the  top  of  a  high 
mountain,  the  Hudson  River  came  into  view,  and  in  the  cen- 
tre lay  one  of  the  large  ships  that  A:ny  had  heard  Cahoon- 
shee  often  describe. 

Here  Amy  and  her  Indian  lover  were  left.  The  rest  went 
on  to  the  river  to  steal  a  canoe  or  build  a  raft,  on  which  to 
cross  the  river.  They  soon  found  a  canoe  large  enough  to 
carry  them  all  over.and  three  of  the  Indians  carried  it  to  the 
place  agreed  upon  to  meet,  and  the  fourth  one  walked  toward 
Kingston  Point. 

-It  was  now  dark,  but  full  moon,  and  objects  could  be  plain- 
ly seen.  He  soon  reached  a  large  stone  house.  Approach- 
ing cautiously,  he  discovered  a  large  number  of  people  in 
and  about  it.  Men  in  uniform,  and  ladies  dressed  in  the 
most  costly  fashion.  The  loud,  shrill  notes  of  the  fiddle 
sounded  upon  the  air,  and  nimble  feet  kept  time  to  the  mu- 
sic. He  stood  screened  behind  a  grape  arbor  that  was  load- 
ed down  with  the  precious  fruit,  when  suddenly  a  female  fig- 
ure appeared.  At  rir.it,  the  Indian  crouched  in  terror.  The 
spirit  of  their  captive,  Amy  stood  before  him.  Could  two 
persons  be  just  alike  ?  He  thought  not.  Yet  there  was  the 
same  form,  figure,  eyes  and  hair. 

She  must  have  escaped.  I'll  retake  her,  then  she  will  be 
mine. 

'He  approached  her  as  silent  as  a  cat,  thre\y  his  blanket 
over  her  head,  clasped  her  mouth  with  his  hand  and  bore  her 
away  unobserved  and  laid  her  apparently  lifeless  form  in  the 
canoe. 

In  a  few  minutes,  Amy  and  her  Indian  captor  arrived  and 
took  seats  in  the  canoe  and  started  on  their  journey  across 
the  Hudson,  where  we  must  leave  them  for  the  present,  and 
return  to  Walter  Wallace 


108 
CHAPTER  XIV. 

Restored  to  Reason— Cora,  tli<>  Rough  Diamond— Saw  a  Ghost. 
A  Temperance  Lecture—Found,  Two  Grand-Fathers. 


We  left  the  hero  of  our  tale  lyin<j  unconscious  in  the  cabin 
of  the  Reindeer,  which  is  now  far  out  to  sea.  Lieutenant 
Powers  had  passed  a  sleepless  night.  The  history  of  Walter 
Wallace,  as  related  by  Captain  Davis,  convinced  him  that  he 
was  his  nephew,  the  son  of  his  long  lost  sister.  He  knew 
not  how  severely  he  was  in  juried,  but  the  fact  that  he  was 
unconscious  led  him  to  believe  that  his  injuries  were  serious, 
perhaps  fatal.  He  wished  to  see  him,  ifxit  was  but  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  the  Captain  had  forbid,  and  his  word  was  law/' 

Bat  he  will  be  well  taken  care  of,  he  said  to  himself.  The 
Captain's  wife  and  Cora  will  nurse  him  carefully.  But  I  fear 
that  Cora  will  talk  and  worry  him.  She  is  so  giddy,  self- 
willed  and  head  strong,  and  will  worry  him  unintentionally. 
Then  I  am  afraid  she  will  take  a  liking  to  this  noble-looking 
young  man.  He  is  just  her  ideal  of  a  man.  T must  see  her, 
and  inform  her  of  the  position  she  sustains  toward  him.  *  I 
must  tell  her  that  she  is  his  aunt.  Then  she  will  open  all 
her  <;uns  0:1  me,  and  as  the  gunners  say,'' go  off  half  cocked." 
But  it  must  be  done,  ar.d  in  this  way  I  can  learn  .his  con- 
dition. 

He  pulled  a  cord  that  hunjf  over  the  table,  and  the  cabin 
boy  appeared. 

Hand  this  note  to  Miss  Cora,  placing  a  letter  in  the  boy's 
hand. 

In  a  few  moments  Cora  came  rushing  in,  apparently  m,uc,l] 
excited,  exclaiming: — 

Qb,  Charley  !    I  ^ni  so  glad  fQ\\  sent  for  me, 


.100 

Stop,  Miss  Cora.  On  ship-board  you  must  address  people 
by  their  titles.  Say  Lieutenant,  not  Charley. 

Well,  then  Lord  Lieutenant. 

Cora — Cora,  you  are  too  rude.  Leave  the  Lord  out,and  sim* 
ply  call  me  Lieutenant. 

'  Well,  then  brother,  I  am  glad  you  sent  for  me.  I  am  sure 
that  I  should-  have  busted  if  I  hadn't  got  away  from  there 
just  as  I  did  !  Only  to  think  of  a  woman  holding  her  mouth 
for  twelve  hours! 

Nonsense,  Cora  !     Nonsense!     Come  to  the  point. 

That  is  just  where  I  am  coming.  I  am  coming  to  the 
point—to  the  point  of  explosion.  As  I  said,  I  have 
held  my  mouth  for  twelve  hours.  Only  think  of  that.  And 
all  that  time,  I  have  been  generating — holding  in — filling  up. 
But  now  I  will  let  off.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  woman  hold- 
ing her  tongue  so  long  before  ? 

Cora,  you  are  really  cru'el.  I  sent  for  you  to  learn  some- 
•' thing  about  the  stranger  that  is  in  the  cabin. 

That  is  just  what  I  thought,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  I 
know. 

That  is  a  good  girl,  Cora — I  am  dying  to  hear  about  him. 

Yes,  and  I  have  been  dying  for  twelve  hours  in  his  pres- 
ence, and  if  you  hadn't  sent  for  me  just  as  you  did,  I  am 
sure  that  I  should  have  been  dead  gone. 

But  Cora,  you  are  not  telling  me  anything. 

How  can  I  ?  You  talk  all  the  while,  and  I  can't  get  a  word 
in  edgeways. 

Ridiculous!  Ridiculous!  Oh,  Cora,  stop  this  ranting. 
Let  the  ridiculous  go,  and  tell  me  what  has  taken  place  in 
the -cabin, 

Ranting  !  Well,  that  is  pretty  language  to  come  from  the 
First  Lieutenant  of  the  Reindeer.  Well,  may  be  I  do  rant. 


110 

I  have  got  a  right  to  rant.  I  will  rant !  I  must  let  off  this 
superabundant  amount  of  gas  that  has  been  generating  in 
my  brain  for  the  last  sixteen  hours. 

But  I  tell  you  it  is  ridciulous. 

Well  go  on  and  tell  me  what  is  so  ridiculous. 

That  is  just  what  I  have  been  trying  to  do  for  half  an 
hour. 

But  I  tell  you  it  is  ridiculous. 

Well,  go  on. 

I  am  going  on  if  you  will  be  still  and  give  me  a  chance. 

Then  I  will  be  still.     I  won't  speak  again    until    you    get 

through. 

Then  you  will  never  speak  again,  for  I  never  shall  get 
through. 

Charles  remained  silent. 

Why  don't  you  speak  ?  Why  don't  you  say  something? 
There  you  sit  as  stubborn  as  a  mule.  I  thought  you  had 
something  to  say  to  me  and  sent  for  me  for  that  purpose. 

Charles  still  remained  silent. 

Well,  if  it  has  come  to  this,  that  my  brother  can't  speak  to 
me,  I  will  go.  But  I  tell  you  it  is  ridiculous. 

Charles  still  remained  silent. 

No,  I  won't  go.  I'll  make  you  speak  if  I  have  to  stay  all 
day. 

Charles  lighted  a  cigar,  and  resigned  himself  to  a  chair. 

Well  now  if  that  isn't  cool — yes,almost  insulting.  That  is 
the  way  you  men  have  to  give  vent  to  your  pent  up  feelings, 
And  simply  because  your  sister  gives  vent  to  her  feelings, 
you  become  mulish.  But  really,  Charles,  it  was  the  most  ri- 
diculous sight  I  ever  saw.  There  lay  the  handsomest  man  I 
ever  saw,  (the  Lieutenant  was  all  ears,)  and  the  Captain's 


Ill 

wife  sat  by  his  side  and  rubbed  his  face  and  cried.  Yes,  she 
really  cried.  The  tears  ran  down  her  face  like  an  avalanch 
from  the  Appenines.  And  if  I  stirred,  she  would  point  her 
finger  and  "  Hist  !  Hist  !  "  The  canary  bird  had  to  be  re- 
moved, for  fear  its  breath  would  annoy  the  sleeper.  But 
the  most  ridiculous  thing  was  the  kissing.  Yes,  when  she 
thought  I  wasn't  looking,  she  kissed  him.  Thmks  I  to  my- 
self, if  the  Captain  should  catch  you  at  that,  there  would  be 
mutiny  on  board.  But  when  the  Captain  came,  she  kissed 
him  all  the  more,  and  then  the  Captain  kissed  her.  Now 
wasn't  that  ridiculous  ?  He  kissed  her  because  she  kissed 
another  man. 

But  Cora,  what  is  the  doctor  doing  for  him  ? 

The  most  ridiculous  thing  in  the  world.  He  is  turning  his 
frame  into  an  apothicary  shop  and  his  stomach  into  a  chem- 
ical laboratory.  Believe  me  brother,  both  sides  of  the  cabin 
are  lined  with  vials,  bottles.plasters  and  rags.  He  is  to  take 
this  kind  ever)'  ten  minutes,  and  that  kind  every  thirty  min- 
utes, and  so  on  with  the  different  kinds  until  we  get  around, 
and  then  it  is  time  to  commence  with  the  first  again. 

I  suppose,Cora,that  you  rendered  Mrs.  Davis  all  the  assist- 
ance you  could  ? 

Certainly  I  did.  I  held  the  bowl  while  the  doctor  bled 
him.  The  doctor  said  that  in  all  cases  of  bruises  and  concus- 
sions, blood-letting;  was  necessary.  And  he  did  the  neces- 
sary up  for  him  scientifically,  for  when  he  got  through,!  think 
he  had  drawn  all  the  blood  out  of  him. 

That  was  kind  in  you  Cora,  and  relieved  Mrs.  Davis  from 
a  very  unpleasant  duty. 

Oh,  I  did  more  than  that.     I  was  time-keeper. 
Time-keeper— what  do  you.  mean  by  that  ? 


112 

I  mean  that  I  advanced  on  his  stomach  by  schedule  time, 
and  cried  ''time  "  like  a  referee  in  a  prize  fight,  and  Mrs, 
Davis  advanced  with  the  spoon. 

Will  he  live,  Cora? 

Yes,  as  long  as  the  medicine  holds  out.  He  hasn't  got  any 
time  to  die  now.  His.  mouth  is  continually  opening  and 
shutting,  and  as  long  as  that  continues  he  is  safe. 

Does  he  move  or  speak  ? 

Yes.  Both.  He  continually  moves  his  eyes,  and  their 
gaze  is  piercing.  He  looked  at  me  as  if  he  intended  to  look  me 
through.  Those  large,  beautiful  orbs  continually  followed 
me,  and  once  he  raised  his  hand  and  said  "  Amy."  It  was 
spoken  soft  and  affectionately.  I  think  he  took  me  for  some 
other  person.  Intelligence,  not  delirium  beamed  in  his  eye, 
and  that  eye  followed  me  wherever  I  went.  What  does  it 
mean,  brother  ?  Who  is  he  ?  What  is  be  ?  and  where  did  he 
come  from  ?  What  makes  the  Captain  and  his  wife  take 
such  an  interest  in  him  ? 

Were  you  and  Mrs.  Davis  alone  with  him  all  night  ? 

Yes,  excepting  an  old  white  cat.  Oh,  Charley,  I  wish  I 
was  a  cat. 

Oh,  no,  my  sister,  you  don't  wish  any  such  thing. 

Yes  I  do.     I  wish  I  could  take  that  cat's  place. 

Now  Cora,  don't  get  visionary  again.        • 

There  is  nothing  visionary  about  it.  It  was  the  most  real 
thing  that  I  ever  saw.  I  saw  that  cat  lying  on  his  breast, 
clasped  in  his  arms. 

, 

And  for  that  reason  you  want  to  be  a  cat  ? 

What  better  reason  ?  I  am  a  woman,  and  what  woman 
could  resist  the  temptation  to  be  encircled  within  those 
manly  arras,  #az«  into  iJiese  dark,  deep  orbs/  drink  in  tb« 


sweet  nectar  of  love,  feel  his  heart  beat  in  unison  with  mine, 
and  hear  him  pronounce  those  endearing  words,  "  Mine  is 
thine,  and  thine  is  mine.  Such  is  love's  most  holy  sign." 

Why,  Cora,  you  are  really  romantic. 

There  is  nothing  romantic  about  it.  I  tell  you,  I  am  go- 
ing to  fall  in  love.  No,  that  don't  express  it.  I  am  going  to 
jump  in  love  with  him. 

What?  before  you  know  who  or  what  he  is  ?  Perhaps  he 
has  been  brought  up  among  the  Indians. 

Oh,pshavt!  What  difference  would  that  make  ?  You  judge 
others  by  yourself.  You  don't  know  anything  about  a  wom- 
an's heart.  When  a  woman  loves,  she  loves  intently,  ernest- 
ly,  devotedly,  nnd  seeks  to  unite  herself  to  the  object  of  her 
affection.  Yes,  I  would  rather  marry  an  Indian  than  one  of 
your  lisping  dudes  whose  brains  compare  well  with  the  sap 
in  his  cane,  and  contains  about  as  much  sense,  without  pluck 
enough  to  fight  a  fly.  A  woman  hates  timidity,  and  dispises 
a  coward.  They  prefer  a  rough  man  to  a  timid  fool.  The  rough 
man,  when  he  kisses  you,  encircles  you  in  his  arms,  pressing 
you  to  his  bosom,  and  imprints  a  kiss  on  your  mouth  that 
electrifies  the  whole  system.  The  dude  stands  off  at  arms' 
length,  and  kisses  you  on  the  tip  of  the  finger.  There  is  no 
electricity  about  that.  And  when  you  come  across  one  of 
those  fellows,  just  make  up  your  mind  that  that  fellow  is  a 
fraud,  hypocrite  or^ool — probably  a  compound  of  all  three. 

But  Cora,  there  is  a  gulf  between  you  and  he — an  abyss 
that  cannot  be  bridged. 

Then  I  will  jump  it.  Don't  you  know  that  when  a  wom- 
an loves,  all  obstacles  can  be  overcome  ?  that  prison  bars 
melt  like  ice  in  the  meridian  sun  ?  that  love  will  pick  locks 
and  remove  prison  bolts?  that  lime  and  distance  are  annihila- 
ted, mountains  become  mole  hills,  and  oceans  mere  streams? 


114 

What  care  I  for  gold  and  silver? 
What  care  I  for  houses  and  land  ? 

What  care  I  for  ships  on  the  ocean? 
What  I  want  is  my  own  man. 

But  nature  has  placed  an  obstacle  in  the  way,  Cora,  that 
can't  be  removed. 

And  if  it  was  in  your  power,  you  would  not  consent  that  it 
should  be  removed. 

You  are  his  own  an/if  ! 

I,  that  man's  aunt  ?  Well,  Lieutenant,  that  shows  that 
you  are  visionary.  Oh,  you  are  a  lunatic — insane — mad  !  I 
can't  trust  myself  here  any  longer  with  you.  Good  day! 

Stay,  Cora,  and  I  will  explain.  Sit  down  by  my  side,  and 
hear  the  story  of  your  sister's  wrongs  and  the  young  man's 
life. 

-- 

I  am  all  ears,  Lieutenant. 

The  Lieutenant  then  related  Walter's  history  in  full,  not 
forgetting  the  fight  on  the  wharf  and  the  way  he  was  in- 
jured. 

Cora  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then  said  : 

Lieutenant,  can  this  be  ?  If  so,  truth  is  stranger  than  fic- 
tion. But  how  do  you  know  that  his  statement  is  true  ! 

By  the  best  of  proof,  replied  Powers.  First,  his  appear- 
ance shows  that  he  is  the  soiil  of  honor.  Secondly,  Webb 
found  him  on  the  Callicoon.  Thirdly,  my  agents  reported 
that  the  families  of  Powers  and  Wallace  had  resided  there,and 
lastly,  we  know  that  many  years  ago,  before  you  were  born, 
your  sister  married  William  Wallace,  and  your  brother 
Thomas  married  Mary  Powers  ;  that  each  of  them  had  a 
child.  Thomas  Powers's  child  was  named  Amy, and  William 
Wallace's  child  was  named  Walter,after  his  grand-father,  Wai- 


115 

ter  Wallace.  The  cat  you  saw,  and  of  which  you  were  jeal- 
ous, belongs  to  Walter.  It  was  a  present  to  him  from  Amy, 
and  bears  her  name. 

But  where  is  Amy  Powers  ?  asked  Cora. 

It  is  supposed  that  she  was  drowned.  But  Walter  thinks 
otherwise,  and  the  object  of  this  voyage  was  to  discover  her 
and  his  friends. 

And  discovered  them  before  he  got  started,  ^eplied  Cora. 

No,  you  are  in  error  there.  He  is  ignorant  of  the  fact  that 
he  has  an  uncle  and  aunt  on  this  ship.  Now  return  to  the 
cabin,  and  as  soon  as  I  can  get  the  Captain's  consent,  I  will 
be  with  you. 

Cora  left,  and  was  soon  at  the  side  of  her  patient.  Mrs. 
Davis  motioned  her  away,  saying  : 

He  is  much  better  now,  and  is  nearly  himself  again. 

Amy  !  said  the  sick  man. 

Be  quiet,  my  son,  said  Mrs.  Davis.  You  have  been  very 
sick. 

Walter  attempted  to  raise  himself. 

Where  am  I  ?  he  said.     What  has  taken  place  ? 

You  are  in  the  cabin  of  the  Reindeer,  far  out  at  sea.  You 
got  hurt  while  coming  on  board. 

Then  it  was  all  a  dream.  All  of  my  hopes  have  been  dash- 
ed from  me,  he  said. 

Captain  Davis  had  been  notified  that  Walter  was  con- 
scious, and  arrived  in  time  to  hear  his  last  remark. 

Oh,  that  the  dream  could  have  lasted  forever.  I  have 
been  living  my  life  over  again.  I  have  seen  and  conversed  with 
my  darling  Amy.  Ac;ain  I  went  to  the  Callicoou,  and  again 
saw  that  mad  stream,  I  saw  the  raft,\vith  mother,  child  and 
dog  rutfh  madly  CKU  I  »*w  tiwun  laud,  »ad  carry  iheiir  H£e- 


JIG 

less  forms  to  the  shore.  I  saw  the  mother  buried  on  the1 
bank,  and  Amy  strew  her  grave  with  flowers.  I  heard  her 
say  "  I  did,  I  shall,  I  ever  will  love  Walter  Wallace.  I  saw  a 
young  man  there  with  a  mark  on  his  breast  of  an  anchor  and 
ship.  (Captain  D?vis  started.)  I  saw  a  great,  good,  wise  In- 
dian. They  called  him  Cahoonshe^.  (Captain  Davis  turned 
pale.)  I  saw  Amy  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians.  I  awoke.  It 
was  a  dream,  a  dream  only.  I  was  conscious  that  I  was  on  beard 
theReindeer,rolting  and  rocking  on  the  ocean, and  the  Captain 
and  his  wife  watching  over  me,  when  suddenly  Amy  appear- 
ed again.  I  am  not  asleep  now.  I  am  awake.  I  am  con- 
scious of  all  that  passes  before  me.  I  know  that  I  see  Amy. 
I  extend  my  hand  and  say  "  Amy,"  she  vanishes.  She  is 
gone.  The  rest  of  you  remain.  I  see  you,  why  don't  I  see 
her  ? 

It  was  a  delusion,  my  boy. 

No,  mother,  it  was  no  delusion.  It  was  no  dream.  She 
was  here — either  in  body  or  spirit.  She  is  here  now.  I  feel 
her  influence. 

There  is  a  lady  on  board,  but  not  the  Amy  you  speak  of. 
It  is  a  Miss  Powers. 

Miss  Powers  ?  exclaimed  Walter,  that  is  her,  Amy  Powers, 
my  long  lost  Amy  ! 

Cora  stood  in  her  state  room  door,  and  heard  all  that  Wal- 
ter had  said.  She  recollected  the  proffered  hand,  and  of  his 
mentioning  the  name  of  Amy.  'She  was  satisfied  that  Wal- 
ter had  seen  her  and  taken  her  for  Amy,  the  love  of  his  boy- 
hood. Her  position  was  embarressing.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  she  and  Amy  looked  so  much  alike  that  Walter  had 
seen  in  her  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  image  of  his  Amy  ? 
She  beckoned  the  Captain  to  her  and  told  him  of  her  suspic- 
ions and  her  reasons. 


117 

Shall  I  make  myself  known  to  him  at  once, and  drive  away 
this  delusion?  Shall  I  tell  him  that  I  am  his  aunt  and  not 
his  Amy  ? 

I  think  so,  replied  the  Captain.  He*seems  to  be  perfectly 
rational,  and  the  sooner  he  is  convinced  of  his  mistake,  the 
better. 

I  will  arrange  my  toilet  and  meet  him,  replied  Cora. 

There  were  some  things  .said  by  Walter  that  deeply  inter- 
ested the  Captain  and  his  wife.  The  mentioning  of  the  an- 
chor and  ship  on  the  breast  of  the  young  man  he  saw  in  com- 
pany of  the  Indian  Cahoonshee  struck  deep  into  his  heart. 
This  was  a  perfect  discription  of  his  long  lost  child.  The 
state  room  door  opens,  and  in  comes  Cora  dressed  in  the  same 
attire  she  wore  when  she  was  addressed  by  Walter.  She  ap- 
proached the  bed.  His  eyes  caught  her.  He  sprang  from 
the  bed,  threw  his  arms  around  her  exclaiming  : 

Found  at  last  !  My  long,  lost  love,  Amy.  Now  I  am  re- 
warded for  a  life  of  toil  and  anxiety.  Look  into  my  eyes, 
Am}-,  and  tell  me  that  you  never  forgot  your  Walter.  Tell 
me  of  the  sweet  hours  we  passed  on  the  Callicoon.  Tell  me, 
oh  tell  me,  can  I  yet  call  you  mine  ? 

Cora  was  embarrassed  and  did  not  know  what  to  say.  She 
was  pleased  with  the  way  that  Walter  addressed  his  suppos- 
ed Amy. 

Why  dont  you  speak  ?  Do  not  let  pride,  place  or  circum- 
stances influence  you.  The  time  has  been  so  great,  perhaps 
destiny  and  cicrumstances  have  changed  your  jiourse,  but 
not  your  affections.  I  will  swear  by  the  Gods  that  you  still 
love  me. 

Oh,  said  Cora,  I  wish  I  was  your  Amy.  I  wish  these  car- 
esses were  meant  for  me.  I  wish  that  I  could  honestly  con- 
tinue to  be  encircled  within  your  manly  arms.  But  no.  It 


118 

cannot  be.  This  affection  is  meant  for  another — not  for  me. 
I  am  not  Amy,  I  am  your  aunt,  and  here  by  your  side  stands 
your  uncle,  Lieutenant  Charles  Powers. 

Walter  fell  back  on  his  bed. 

So  near,  yet  so  far,  he  exclaimed.  Leave  me  alone  to  com- 
mune with  my  own  thoughts, 

The  Lieutenant  took  his  hand  and  said  :     . 

Don't  be  cast  down,  my  nephew;  It  is  always  the  darkest 
before  day.  The  light  in  your  horizon  has  begun  to  .appear. 
It  will  illuminate  your  whole  soul.  Such  love  cannot  go  un- 
rewarded. You  will  yet  find  your  Amy.  In  the  morning 
you  will  be  stronger,  and  will  then  learn  the  history  of  your 
family. 

The  next  morning  Walter  was  so  much  improved  that  he 
went  on  deck,  and  then  to  the  room  of  Lieutenant  Powers, 
where  he  learned  the  history  of  his  family,  of  which  the 
reader  is  already  apprised. 

Really  Walter,  continued  the  Lieutenant,  I  am  ashamed  to 
relate  the  cause  that  led  to  the  estrangement  between  the 
Wallace  and  Powers  families.  It  was  very  trival — in  fact  no 
cause  at  all.  Your  father,  William  and  my  brother  Thomas 
were  two  stripling  boys,  and  each  of  them  owned,  a  game 
rooster,  and  each  thought  his  rooster  the  smartest.  A  cock 
fight  was  agreed  upon  and  the  fathers  of  both  sides  invited 
to  be  present.  The  day  arrives,  the  families  meet  to  see  the 
sport,and  the  cocks  go  at  each  other  with  vengence  and  soon 
there  is  a  dead  cock  in  the  pit.  The  owner  of  the  dead  cock 
kicks  at  the  the  victorious  rooster.  Then  the  boys  clinch, 
the  old  gentlemen  get  mad  and  interfere,  and  the  result  is 
eternal  enmity  between  the  families  so  far  as  the  fathers 
were  concerned.  Each  forbid  their  children  to  visit  or  hold 
any  intercourse  with  each  other.  And  to  this  day  the  two 


110 

fathers  hold  to  their  resentment.  Twenty-five  years  hav& 
passed,  and  during  all  that  time  they  have  not  spoken  to- 
gether or  allowed  their  children,  so  far  as  they  could  pre- 
vent it.  Net  "so  with  the  children  of  these  mad  par- 
ents. Your  father  and  Thomas  soon  became  friends  again, 
and  often  met  and  played  together.  Long  before  this  es- 
trangement, your  mother  and  father  were  friends,  and  in 
their  juvenile  days,  pledged  to  each  other  their  love  with 
their  parents  consent.  And  the  same  was  the  case  between 
my  brother  Thomas  and  Amelia  Wallace.  As  they  grew  up, 
they  refused  to  break  their  engagement,  and  were  married. 
For  this  they  were  disinherited  and  driven  from  their 
parental  roofs.  A  few  friends  assisted  them  .and  they  em- 
barked for  America.  You  know  the  rest. 

Then  the  object  I  had  in  visiting  the  old  world  is  accom- 
plished, said  Walter.  I  have  no  desire  to  see  those  that 
drove  their  children  from  home  for  following  the  dictates  of 
their  conscience  and  the  man  or  maid  of  their  choice.  Place 
me  on  board  of  the  first  returning  ship  we  meet,  and  I  will 
return  to  the  scenes  of  my  childhood. 

There  is  no  necessity  of  that.  Continue  with  us.  Perhaps 
you  may  be  the  means  of  a  reconciliation  between  the  fam- 
ilies. \ouv  grand-father  Powers  is  an  old  .man,  firmly  set 
in  his  own  ways.  But  I  trust  that  the  son  of  his  injured 
daughter,  Amelia,  may  cause  him  to  relent  and  forgive.  He 
is  subject  to  heart  disease,  and  his  death  may  be  expected 
at  any  time. 

Walter  replied  : — 

I  will  go  and  see  my  two  grand-fathers  and  then  return  to 
America. 

A  tap  is  heard  on  the  door,  and  a  midshipman  enters. 

The  Captain  wishes  to  see  Mr.  Wallace  •  and  Lieutenant 
Powers  in  the  cabin. 


120 

Arriving  there  the  Captain  said  : — 

Lieutenant,  we  have  a  very  important,yet  disagreeable  du- 
ty to  perform.  You  must  summon  a  court  martial  and  try 
the  mutineers.  I  should  have  ordered  it  before,  had  Mr. 
Wallace  been  able  to  give  his  testimony.  He  has  now  re- 
covered, and  we  will  proceed  with  the  investigation  at  once. 

The  Lieutenant  left  the  cabin. 

Captain,  said  Walter,  how  many  men  have  you  to  try  ? 

Two.  John  Frost  and  Tom  Jones.  Poor  fellows — I  pity 
them. 

How  long  have  they  been  on  the  ship? 

They  have  sailed  with  me  for  years,  They  entered  the 
Navy  when  mere  boys. 

What  has  been  their  previous  conduct,  Captain  ? 

They  have  always  been  good,  steady  men.  Always  punc- 
tual to  obey.  This  is  their  first  offence. 

And  if  convicted,  said  Walter,  what  then? 

Hang  them  to  the  yard-arm,  replied  the  Captain. 
Mutiny  at  sea  cannot  be  tolerated.  An  example  must  be 
made  of  them  to  deter  others. 

I  admit,  Captam,  that  example  is  a  great  educator,  but  is 
it  not  example — the  force  of  the  education  they  have  receiv- 
ed on  board  of  the  ship  that  got  them  into  this  trouble? 

No  sir  !  said  the  Captain  excitedly.  It  was  rum  !  Too 
much  rum  ' 

That  is  just  the  point,  Captain — too  much  rum.  But  who 
set  the  example  before  them  ?  Who  educated  them  to  drink 
rum  ?  Who  dealt  out  to  them,  twice  a  day,  the  deadly  drug  ? 
And  now  follows  the  fearful  consequences  of  example  and 
education.  And  now  you  will  hang  them  to  the  yard-arm 
for  putting  into  practice  the.  legitimate  consequence  of  their 


121 

education.  You  say  these  men  have  followed  the  sea  all 
their  days — that  they  entered  the  Navy  when  they  were 
mere  boys — that  for  long  years  they  have  served  you  and 
your  country  well — that  this  is  their  first  offence,  and  for 
this  offence  they  must  die — must  be  suspended  between  the 
heavens  and  earth,  as  an  example,  to  deter  others.  And  now 
.  those  who  set  them  the  example  become  their  executioners. 

Perhaps,  said  the  Captain,  I  do  not  understand  your  real 
meaning,  but  if  I  do,  you  charge  the  consequences  of  this 
mutiny  upon  me,  and  through  me,  indirectly,  upon  the  En- 
glish Navy,  their  dicipline  and  laws. 

You  have  comprehended  my  meaning,  Captain,  these  men 
are  to  be  deprived  of  life  through  the  discipline  and  laws  of 
the  English  Navy.  I  mean  that  the  education  they  have  re- 
ceived, prepared — yes,  propelled  them  to  commit  the  crime 
for  which  they  are  to  suffer  death.  You  dealt  out  to  them 
their  rations  of  grog.  You  taught  them  to  violate  the  laws 
of  their  nature.  You  created  in  them  an  insatiate  desire  for 
strong  drink.  This  desire  you  could  restrain  while  on  ship- 
board, because  there  was  a  guard  over  the  tap,  and  British 
bayonets  held  their  passions  and  appetites  in  subjection. 
Not  so  when  they  were  ou  shore.  Then  tltey  were  at  liber- 
ty to  measure  their  own  grog.  Then  their  educated  appetites 
cried  "Rum!  More  Rum  !"  Then  British  gold  could  fur- 
nish what  English  bayonets  could  not  prevent.  Then  they 
became  maddened — frienzied — unaccountable  beings.  Yes, 
Captain,  it  was  rum  !  The  demon,  devil  rum  that  was  in 
them  that  did  it.  And  now,  men,  Claiming  to  be  the  image 
of  the  God  they  worship  are  to  sit  in  judgement  on  their 
own  work  and  strangle  other  images  of  the  same  God.  For 
doing  what  ?  For  working  out  the  legitimate  consequences 
of  their  education.  Captain,  can  you  take  part  in  this  great 
wrong?  Will  you  deprive  a  soul  of  life  ?  a  wife  t)f  a  hus- 


1'22 

band  ?  a  child  of  a  father  ?  and  society  of  a  member  ?  As 
for  myself,  I  will  not  be  a  witness  against  these  misguided 
men.  Sooner,  would  I  be  cast  overboard,  and  trust  to  prov- 
idence to  reach  my  native  shore  than  imbrue  my  hands  with 
their  blood. 

Young  man,  said  the  Captain,  where  did  you  learn  this 
fine  spun  morality  ? 

In  the  wilderness  of  America,  he  replied.  Your  govern- 
ment eerid  their  missionaries  there  to  christianize  and  civil- 
ize the  Indians,  with  a  bible  in  one  hand  and  a  whiskey  bot- 
tle in  the  other.  They  deal  out  to  them  this  liquid  hell  fire, 
obscure  their  reason,  excite  their  passions,  and  make  of  them 
•devils  incarnate.  The  Indians  retaliate,  and  kill  and  burn 
.all  within  their  reach.  And  then  English  guns,  pointed  with 
English  bayonets,  enforce  English  lavs, with  the  intention  of 
exterminating  the  Indians.  With  those  Indians,  Captain,  is 
your  lost  boy. 

How  do  you  know  that  ?  excitedly  exclaimed  Davis. 

I  saw  him  in  my  dream.  I  saw  the  anchor  and  ship  on  his 
breast.  I  saw  his  protector,  Cahoonshee  place  him  in  your 
arms. 

But  Mr.  Wallace,  what  connection  has  this  with  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  mutineers? 

That  sailor,  replied  Walter,  is  a  man,  a  father.  His  wife 
and  child  arc  waiting,  hoping,  praying  for  his  return.  Both 
you  and  your  child  are  waiting,  hoping,  praying  that  you 
may  meet  again.  As  you  may  do  by  this  man  and  his  child, 
may  God  do  by  you  and  your  child. 

This  struck  Captain  Davis  to  the  heart,  and  if  it  had  been 
in  his  power,  he  would  have  released  the  men  at  once.  But 
duty,  stern  duty,  forbid.  Some  good  excuse  must  be  found, 
or  the  trial  proceed. 


123 

Mr.  Wallace,  said  the  Captain,  I  admit  the  force  of  yoiir 
reasoning  as  to  the  cause  that  produced  this  difficulty,  yet  I 
see  no  escape.  The  law  is  imperative,  and  these  men  must 
stand  trial,  and  if  convicted,  they  must  be  executed.  Show 
me  an  honorable  way,  and  I  will  save  them. 

There  is  away,  Captain,  a  legal  way  to  save  the  lives  of 
these  men. 

How?  exclaimed  the  Captain  excitedly.  I  did  not  know 
that  you  were  versed  in  marine  law. 

Because  you  have  no  power  to  try  and  execute  these  men. 

What !     No  power  to  punish  for  mutiny  at  sea   ? 

I  do  not  deny  that  power,  but  there  has  been  no  mutiny  at 
sea.  It  was  a  riot-  on  land.  Have  you  jurisdiction  over 
crimes  committed  on  land  ? 

Really,  my  boy,  that  is  an  idea  I  had  not  thought  of. 

I  had.replied  Walter.  And  even  if  the  difficulty  had  taken 
place  on  board  of  the  ship,  I  don't  think  that  you  could  le- 
gally try  and  execute  these  men.  Vattle  says  that  it  is  only 
in  extreme  cases  that  this  summary  proceeding  can  be 
resorted  to.  Where  you  have  proof  of  a  deep  laid 
conspiracy  to  murder  the  officers  and  take  the  ship,  you 
may  resort  to  this  summary  trial.  Unless  this  danger 
exists,  you  must  turn  the  men  over  to  be  tried  by  the  laws  of 
the  land. 

I  will  consult  my  officers,  replied  the  Captain. 

With  your  consent,  I  would  like  to  visit  these  men,  said 
Walter. 

You  have  my  consent,  replied  the  Captain. 

The  Captain  and  his  First  Lieutenant  had  a  long  conver- 
sation in  relation  to  the  court  he  had  ordered  convened,  and 
came  to  the  conclusion  to  defer  it  for  the  present. 


124 

Walter  and  Lieutenant  Powers  went  to  see  the  prisoners, 
and  found  them  at  the  bottom  of  the  ship,  where 
there  was  no  light  or  air  fit  to  breath.  A  horrid  stench  per- 
vaded, and  the  odor  of  bilge  water  made  the  place  almost 
unbearable.  They  had  groped  their  way  through  total  dark- 
ness, aided  only  by  a  tallow  candle. 

These  are  the  men  we  are  in  search  of,  said  Powers  to 
Walter. 

Yes,  here  we  are,  replied  Frost.  But  ge-ntlemen,  if  you 
value  your  lives,  leave  this  place  at  once.  Don't  inhale  this 
poison  vapor. 

Powers  was  holding  the  candle,  which  gave  but  an  imper. 
feet  light  and  made  the  men  before  him  look  ghatly. 

Wallace  was  dumb  with  horror,  when  suddenly  a  figure  in 
white  appeared. 

What  have  we  got  here?  exclaimed  Powers, 

An  angel,  said  Tom  Jones,  feeding  two  of  the  King's  sub- 
jects with  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  the  master's  table. 

Silence,  man  !  Raising  the  light  toward  the  figure  before 
him.  Speak  !  Be  you  man,  devil  or  angel !  Speak  ! 

The  figiu'e  advanced. 

I  am  neither  man  or  angel  but  the  charge  of  devil  may 
apply. 

What  ?  what  are  you  doing  here  ?  said  Powers. 

Feeding  these  unfortunate  men,  and  preparing  them  for 
the  ordeal  they  have  got  to  go  through. 

Cora,  are  you  not  aware  that  this  is  beneath  the  dignity  of 
your  station,  and  a  violation  of  the  laws  «>f  the  ship? 

Lieutenant,  are  the  laws  of  the  ship  above  the  laws  of  hu- 
manity ?  and  God's  laws  ?  that  command  us  to  visit  those 
are  in  prison;  the  sick  and  afflicted?  Shame,  brother/ 


123 

•sliame,  that  anything  in  the  form  of  a  mail,  or  in  the  image 
of  God  should  be  treated  thus — ironed  to  the  floor,  and  sti- 
fled with  bad  air. 

Cora,  you  must  leave  here.  Mr.  Wallace,  will  you  escort 
her  on  deck  ?  This  interview  must  close. 

When  is  our  trial  to  come  off?  asked  Tom  J(;nes. 

That  I  can't  say,replied  the  Lieutenant.  But  it  is  improp- 
er to  talk  about  it  here.  When  the  time  cotr.es,  you  will  be 
noticed. 

As  for  me,  said  Jones,  I  am  ready  to  be  tried,  and  if  con- 
victed, to  die.  I  am  alone  in  the  world — without  wife,  child 
or  chick.  There  is  no  one  to  mourn  my  loss  or  suffer  by  my 
disgrace.  But  it  is  different  with  my  ship-mate,  Frost.  He 
has  a  wife  and  children  that  love  him  dearly,  I  wish  he 
could  be  spared.  If  it  is  necessary  that  the  law  should  be 
vindicated,  and  an  example  set  to  deter  others,  let  them 
make  an  example  of  me,  and  hang  me  to  the  yard-arm,  in 
view  of  the  whole  ship's  company.  If  any  one  is  to  blame,  I 
am.  This  man  is  innocent.  He  took  no  part  in  the  af- 
fray. He  was  shoved  to  the  front  by  the  crowd  behind.  As 
tor  me,  I  was  a  leader,  an  unconscious  leader.  I  wras  crazed 
with  rum.  I  came  on  this  ship  when  a  small  boy.  It  was 
here  I  took  my  first  drink.  It  was  here  I  acquired  the  appe- 
tite for  strong  drink.  It  was  here  that  I  was  educated,  that 
to  be  manly,  I  must  take  my  rations.  On  the  ship,  I  kept  so- 
ber and  performed  my  duty.  Here  I  could  get  but  a  limited 
quantity.  On  the  ship  I  learned  and  believed  that  Friday 
was  an  unlucky  day,  and  the  ship  that  left  port  on  that  day 
would  meet  with  bad  luck.  Never  before  had  the  Captain 
ordered  us  to  sail  on  that  day.  Being  frenzied  with  rum  at 
the  tavern,  where  we  could  get  all  we  wanted,  a  few  of  us 
r.;solved  that  we  would  not  go  to  sea  that  day.  You  know 
the  rest  better  than  I  do.  It  was  not  Tom  Jones  that  re- 


126 

volted,  it  was  the  rum  that  was  in  him.  It  was  rum  in  and 
Tom  Jones  out.  It  was  the  act  of  a  mad  man — a  demon — a 
devil,  crazed  by  rum. 

Mr.  Wallace,  let  us  go.  It  is  sickening  here,  exclaimed 
the  Lieutenant. 

What, said  Cora,is  sickening?  these  men  or  the  air  you  com 
pel  them  to  breath?  Thi?,brother,is  murder  without  the  benefit 
of  the  clergy.     Perhaps  you  havfe  the  right  to  take  these  men's 
lives,,  according  to  law,  but  you  have  no  right  to  be  inhuman 
and  deprive  them  of  life  in  this  foul  and  poisonous  air. 

What  would  you  have  me  do,  Cora?  said  the  Lieutenant. 

Take  off  these  irons,  take  them  on  deck,  and  then  hang 
them.  For  doing  what  ?  For  obeying  the  instincts  of  their 
nature.  For  doing  what  they  could  not  help.  And  then  in 
order  that  the  job  be  done  scientifically  and  religiously,  you 
and  Captain  Davis  should  be  their  executioners.  You  began 
the  work — you  learned  these  men  to  drink — on  you  rests  the 
responsibility  of  their  acts.  And  it  is  but  fitting  that  you 
finish  the  work  you  began.  Turn  hangman,  Lieutenant, 
turn  hangman. 

Cora,  exclaimed  Powers  excitedly,you  must  stop  this  rant- 
ing. If  a  man  had  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  address  an  of- 
ficer as  you  have  done,  he  would  swing  at  the  yard-arm  be- 
fore sun-down. 

Then  you  will  have  an  execution  before  dark,  replied  Wal- 
ter, for  I  endorse  every  word  she  has  said. 

Mr.  Wallace,  said  the  Lieutenant,  this  thing  must  stop. 
You  and  Cora  must  leave,  and  I  will  see  that  justice  is  done 
these  men. 

All  parties  left  ,  and  soon  after  met  in  the  cabin.  Captain 
Davis  was  walking  the  floor,  and  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in 
deep  thought.  Mrs.  Davis  met  Walter  with  a  smile,  and  mo- 


127 

tioned  him  to  take  a  chair  by  her  side.  A  moment  after, 
Cora  came  in,  followed  by  Lieutenant  Powers. 

Have  you  seen  Frost  and  Jones  ?  asked  Mrs.  Davis, 

We  have,  replied  Walter. 

And  what  is  your  wish  toward  them.?  asked  the  Captain. 

To  give  them  their  liberty,  and  set  them  to  work.  My 
word  for  it  Captain,  there  isn't  two  more  more  loyal  men  in 
the  British  Navy  than  Tom  Jones  and  Jack  Frost,  and  they 
have  been  sufficiently  punished  for  all  the  wrong  they  have 
done. 

Mr.  Wallace,  there  is  force  in  your  reasoning.  Yet,  as 
Commander  of  this  ship,  I  must  make  a  full  report,  and  ac- 
count for  the  men  we  left  on  shore. 

That  is  the  key  to  the  whole  matter,  Captain.  Report  the 
case  just  as  it  is — that  the  leaders  of  the  mutiny  were  killed 
on  the  spot,  and  Jones  and  Frost  were  punished  by  being 
placed  in  irons  and  confined  between  decks  for  twenty  clays 
and  then  set  to  work.  This,  I  think,  would  be  satisfactory, 
both  to  the  men  and  the  government. 

I 'will  lay  the  matter  before  my  officers,  replied  the  Cap- 
tain, and  be  governed  in  the  matter  by  their  judgment. 

A  council  of  the  ship's  officers  was  called,  and  Walter  was 
invited  to  be  present,  the  result  of  which  was,  that  Jones  and 
Frost  were  restored  to  liberty. 

It  was  soon  known  on  board  of  the  ship  that  Walter  had 
been  instrumental  in  procuring  the  release  of  the  men,  and 
for  that  reason,  he  became  the  id^l  of  the  crew,  and  a  friend- 
ship grew  up  between  them  that  lasted  for  life. 

During  the  remainder  of  the  voyage  Walter  spent  most  of 
his  time  with  these  men,  and  from  them  learned  the  whole 
foutine  of  the  sailors'  duty  in  working  and  sailing  a  ship- 


128 

Walter  was  an  apt  scholar,and  by  time  England  was  reach- 
ed he  was  a  first-class  sailor. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Jones  and  Frost  were 
released,  Walter  and  Lieutenant  Powers  had  a  long  conver- 
sation in  relation  to  their  future  action. 

In  a  few  days  we  shall  arrive  in  port,  and  then  you  will 
have  an  opportunity  to  see  your  two  grand-fathers.  How 
they  will  receive  you,  or  whether  they  will  receive  you  at  all 
is  uncertain.  They  are  now  both  very  old  men.  Your 
grand-father  Wallace,  I  think,  will  receive  and  acknowledge 
you  as  his  grand-son.  He  has  never  effaced  from  his  mem- 
ory the  love  he  had  for  ypur  mother,  and  never  neglects  an 
opportunity  of  inquiring  if  any  intelligence  has  been  receiv- 
ed from  your  father's  family.  But  your  grand-father  Pow- 
ers is  very  uncertain.  I  fear  that  he  will  refuse  to  see  you, 
and  perhaps  insult  you,  should  you  appear  before  him.  But 
Cora  and  I  will  do  the  best  we  can  to  effect  a  reconciliation. 

Uncle,  said  Walter,  the  object  I  had  in  view  in  visiting  the 
old  world  is  accomplished.  I  have  found  the  friends  of  mine 
and  Amy's  family.  The  causes  that  drove  my  parents  from 
their  native  shore  still  exists.  Parents  that  could  exile  their 
own  child  would  have  no  concientiotis  scruples,  and  would 
disown  and  drive  from  their  door  the  grand-child  of  their 
own  offspring.  I  have  met  an  uncle  and  an  aunt.  Let  that 
suffice.  I  have  no  desire  to  meet  those  that  think  or  speak 
unkindly  of  my  parents.  My  mother  is  dead  and  cannot 
speak  in  her  own  defense.  That  now  becomes  my  duty — a 
duty  that  I  will  neither  court  nor  shrink  from.  But  woe  un- 
to the  man  that  slanders  my  dead  mother.  Perhaps  I  had 
better  not  see  either  of  my  grand-parents — at  least  not  until 
they  make  the  request,  I  hope  that  our  stay  in  port  will  be 
short,  as  I  am  anxious  to  prosecute  my  se.a,rQli  in, 


The  Voyage  is  nearly  completed.  The  distant  shores  of 
the  old  world  are  in  view.  The  Reindeer  is'  proudly  enter- 
-ing  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  and  sixty  miles  more  will 

•  bring  us  to  our  destination. 

Walter  stood  leaning  against  the  taffrail,    near   the  stern, 
.gazing    land-ward.      While    his    eyes    were    taking,  hi    ob- 
jects along  shore,  his  mind    was    .employed    in^.a    different 
direction.     His  thoughts  led  him  back  to  the, scenes,   of    his 
.  childhood.     The  little  farm  on  the  Callicoon — the  mad    wat- 
,  ers  of  the  Beaver  Dam — :th.e  screaching  panther — the  mother- 
ly bear — the  swiftly  gliding  raft  with   its    human    freight — 
.the  last  agonizing  look  of  Amy..  ,    • 

I?  am  now  three  thousand  miles  from  home,  he  said  to  him- 
self, and  for  what  purpose  ?  To  see  my  old-and  hard  ,-heart- 
ecl  grand-fathers.  To  be  spurned  and  scorned  by- them,  sin:- 
ply  because  I  am.  of  .their  blood.  They  will  tell  me  that  I 
•have  come  there  a-\beggar  on  their- bounty —that  I  am:  .a  son 
-.  of  their  disgraced  .children.  No!  By.  heavens,  they,  .shall 
not  have  the  opportunity  to  insult  me  or  the  memory  of  my 

-  dead  parents.     At  their  request,  and  at   their   request   only, 
will  I  appear  before  them. 

Don't  be  too  positive  of  that,  exclaimed  a  voice  behind 
him.  Your  uncle  and  aunt  have  some  rights  to  a-ssertin  this 
matter.  You  are  too  despondent.  Cast  off  those  gloomy 
feelings  and  look  forward  to  sunshine  and  happiness.  Al- 
though you  have  lived  in  obscurity,  you  are  of  noble  blood. 
The  grand -son  of  a  Lord  on  one  hand,  and  of  an  Admiral  on 
the  other,  and  I  shall  be  proud  to  introduce  you  to  the  best 
families  in  England 

Yes — -to  be  reviled  and  insulted,  because. I  am  the  .son  of 
an  out  cast,  replied  Walter. 

No,  my  boy.  To  be  received,  and  loved,  and  owned  by  all. 
To  take  your  proper  position  in  'society, 'arid  your  grand- 
father's name  and  position.  .'  . .  -.  •  .  '  '  ".••'  ": 


ISO 

Ah,  Cora,  you  don't  know  me.  You  know  not  that  I  care 
not  for  Lords  or  Admirals.  I  care  nothing  for  wealth  or  ti- 
tles. I  would  not  exchange  one  inch  of  American  soil  for 
all  Briton,  nor  my  blue  eyed  Amy  for  the  fairest  woman  in 
London. 

You  think  so  now,  but  wait  until  you  have  entered  society. 
Wait  until  you  have  embarked  on  the  stream  of  fashion. 
Wait  until  the  eyes  of  some  London  beauty  looks  long  and 
deep  into  your  dark  orbs  and  say  in  language  that  is  as  -si- 
lent as  the  grave,  yet  as  powerful  as. the  thunder  that  shook 
Sinai.  Wait  until  you  hear  one  say  "Walter,  I-  love  you." 
Wait  until  you  know  yourself,  and  know  that  you  have  your 
likes  and  dislikes,  and  are  subjected  to  the  same  temptations 
as  other  men.  Wait  until  you  meet  with  the  woman  whose 
heart  beats  in  unison  with  your  own,  who  seems  to  be  a  part 
of  yourself  as  she  look^  in  your  eyes.  One  that  will  cause 
your  soul  t'o  silently  exclaim  :  "Mine  is  thine 'and  thine  is 
mine." 

Stop,  Cora  !  Proceed  no  further.  You  have  reached  the 
pinnacle  of  love.  You  have  described  my  ideal  of  woman. 
The  eyes  you  spoke  of  are  beaming  on  me  now.  The  heart 
you  spoke  of  presses  on  my  own.  They  beat  together.  They 
beat  in  imison.  They  are  twain — one  flesh.  I  feel  her 
breath  on  my  brow.  I  hear  her  sweet  voice  whispering  in 
my  ear  :  '*'  Mine  is  thine,  and  thine  is  mine."  By  an  invis- 
able  magnetic  influence,  we  keep  up  a  sweet  correspondence. 
The  woman  you  spoke  of  is  my  guardian  angel,  and  as  the 
lofty  spires  come  in  view,  as  the  panorama  of  wealth,,  beauty 
and -temptation  are  unfolding,  I  feel  as  if  I  was  encircled 
within  her  arms  and  hear  her  say ':  "  Walter,  remember  our 
infantile  love,  the  seed  of  which  was  planted  on  the  banks 
of  the  Callicoon.  .  Here  it  grew.  Here  it  germinated.  Here 
the  rose  unfolded  and  expanded.  .  Here.it.  was  clothed  in 
the  garb  of  immortality,  riever"ehding,  never  dying'rovei'' 


131 

Walter,  you  are  really  romantic,  and  your  imagination  is 
floating  about  in  space,  surrounded  by  ethereal  glory.  But 
where  is  this  object  of  your  affections  ?  Where  is  this  Amy  ? 
Does  she  exist  outside  of  your  imagination  ?  Will  you  ever 
see  her  again  ?  And  if  you  do,  will  she  yet  cherish  the  feel- 
ings  toward  you  that  you  have  pictured  in  your  imagina- 
tion? 

Cora,  before  I  answer  that  question,  I  must  ask  you  one. 
Have  you  ever  loved  ? 

What  a  curious  question —and  what  has  that  to  do  with 
your  blue  eyed  Amy  on  the  Callicoon. 

Simply  this.  If  you  have  experienced  the  pangs  or  pleas- 
ures of  .love,  your  heart  will  answer  the  question.  If  you 
have  not,  then  you  are  incapable  of  understanding  the  reas- 
ons why  I  believe  that  I  shall  meet  the  object  of  my  affect- 
ions again. 

Really,  Walter,  I  don't  think  that  I  ever  loved  in  the  sense 
your  words  imply.  Yet  I  must  confess  that  I  have  a  longing 
desire  for  a  companion.  Should  my  ideal  of  a  man  seek  my 
hand  and  hearty  and  woo  me  as  you  do  your  imaginary  Amy, 
I  would  love  him  with  my  whole  heart,  and  go  with  him  to 
the  end  of  the  world.  But  such  men  are  scarce.  They  are 
not  often  to  be  found  in  high  life.  Marriage  with  many  is 
a  matter  of  convenience.  With  others  it  is  purely  merci- 
nary.  Society  is  wrong  side  up,  and  in  order  to  carry  out 
the  whims  of  society,  women  must  act  the  part  of  hypocrites. 
To-day  I  am  Cora.  I  can  talk  and  dress  natural.  Yes,  here 
there  is  no  impropriety  in  talking  sensible,  but  to-morrow  it 
will  be  different.  I  shall  be  in  London.  Then  I  am  no  long- 
er Cora.  Then  I  am  Miss  Powers.  Miss  Lady  Powers.  Tied, 
body  and  soul  by  fashion,  and  expected  to  smil^  on  every 
hypocrite  and  fool  that  presents  himself,  Like  you,  I  love 
America,  and  my  ideaj  of  a  I^SRJ  is  to  be  found,  in  the 


And  if  ever  I  do  .love,  it  will  be  a  wild  man  of  the  forest. 
When  you  return,  I  will  return  with  you.  Wherever  you  go 
in  search  of  your  lost  Amy,  I  will  follow,  and  something 
seems  to  tell  me  that  when  you  find  your  Amy,  I  will  find 
my  hero. 

That  night  they  all  met  in  the  cabin,  and  a  spirited  con- 
versation was  carried  on  as  to  their  future  movements. 

To-morrow,  said  Mrs.  Davis,  we  will  receive  our  friends. 
To-morrow  night  we  will  have  a  reception  ball  on  board  .of 
the  ship,  and  the  next  day  we  will  be  at  liberty  to  go  on 
shore.  I  anticipate  much  pleasure  in  presenting  Mr.  Wal- 
lace to  his  family  and  friends,  and  have  some  curiosity  to 
?:ee  how  he  will  steer  his  way  through  the  swarm  of  English 
butterflies  that  will  be  buzzing  in  his  ears  when  they  learn 
that  he  is  the  grand-son  of  Lord  Wallace.  I  .fear  that  he 
will  feel  and  appear  awkward.  Cora  and  I  must  give  him 
some  lessons. 

I  will  save  you  that  trouble,  replied  Walter.  I  have  differ- 
ent arrangements,  and  shall  not  be  here  to  be  laughed  at  for  my 
awkwardness.  I  shall  spend  to-morrow  among  friends  that 
can  appreciate  the  friendship  of  a  wild  man  from  the  woods. 
I  go  on  shore  with  Tom  Jones  and  Jack  Frost.  I  prefer 
them  before  all  others  to  introduce  me  to  the  mysteries  and 
miseries  of  London  life. 

Why  Walter,  that  would  be  unpardonable.  Certainly  you 
will  not- appear  on  shore  in  company  with  common  sailors? 

Certainly  I  shall  go  on  shore  with  the  men  I  have  nam- 
ed. You  call  them  common  sailors.  I  call  them  nature's 
nob'em€n. 

Walter,  said  Mrs.  Davis,  they  will  both  be  drunk  before 
they  have  been  on  shore  an  hour.  And  then  what  a  sight. 


133 

That  compells  me  to  give  the  reason  why  I  go  with  them.. 
It  is  to  prevent  what  you  fear  that  causes  me  to  accompany 
them.  And  I -shall  go  with  them  dressed  in  sailor  clothes. 

That  is  ridiculous  !  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davis.  Captain,  you 
must  stop  this  thing. 

Mr.  Wallace  has  my  consent  and  approval  of  the  course  he 
is  about  to  take.  If  he  can  go  on  shore  with  two  old  man-of 
war's-men  and  keep  them  sober,he  is  a  genius  that  has  never 
been  found  before  in  the  English  Navy.  He  has  another 
reason  why  he  does  not  wish  to  remain  on  board  to-morrow, 
for  which  we  must  excuse  him.  Lord  Wallace,  family  and 
friends  will  be  here,  and  it  will  be  better  that  the  existance 
of  his  grand-son  should  be  pronounced  prior  to  the  meeting, 
for  Walter  has  firmly  resolved  that  he  will  see  neither  of  his 
grand-fathers  except  on  their  special  request.  Therefore, 
let  us  retire  and  prepare  for  the  morrow. 

During  the  night  the  ship  sailed  within  two  miles  of  Lon- 
don and  cast  anchor,  and  before  the  sun  had  risen, every  sail 
was  secured  and  the  ship  dressed  in  gaily,  style.  The 
docks  were  lined  with  people,  many  of  whom  had  been  at- 
tracted there  by  idle  curiosity.  Others  expected  -to  meet 
friendsor  hear  from  relatives  in  America.  Others  had  hus- 
bands, sons  or  lovers  on  board,  and  were  straining  their  eyes 
to  see  their -long  absent  loved  ones. 

Walter  and  his  two  friends  appeared  on  deck,  dressed  in 
full  sailor  uniform.  They  were  abcut  to  get  into  the  yawl 
to  go  on  shore,  when  Cora  took  Walter  aside  and  said  : 

Will  you  come  on  board  to-night  ? 

Yes,  he  replied,  if  you  request  it. 

I  do  request  it.  Be  in  the  Lieutenant's  mom  at  eleven 
o'clock.  Now  good  bye  for  the  present. 

,  .At  this  instant  th,e  ship's  surgeon  requested  an  interview 
with  Cora. 


134: 

.Why,  doctor,  what -js. the,  matter?-  You  look  as  if.  you   hacl- 
lost;your  best  friend..       ;        -  . 

. I  have  lost  nothing  but  a  patient.  The  cat  Amy  is  dead. 
I- feared  to  break  the  news  to  him,  and  called  on  you  for  ad- 
vice. ...  ./:•.;  • :  • 

"Don't,  for  the  world^tell  him  now.      Take  it  to  a    taxider 
mist  and  have  it  stuffed,  and  I  will. explain  it  to  him  in   due, 
time. 

The  trio  entered  the  boat,  and  in  a  few  moments  were 
safely  landed  on  the  wharf. 

A  rush  is 'tirade  to  reach  tlae  sailors,  and  Tom  and  Jack  are 
soon  in.the-.hands  of  their  friends.  „ 

Frost's  wife  and  daughter  nearly  smothered  him  with  kiss 
es,  and  Tams-'s  friejids.  received  him  kindly,  and    immediate^ 
ly  invited  him  to  go  to    a    tavern    and    talce    something,    t-a 
drink.     .         -    ,,,     . .-  • 

Never  !  replied  Tom.  I  have  drank  my  last  glass  of 
grog.  I  thank  you.for  your  friendship,  but  if.  you  are  true 
friends,  don't  tempt  me  to  drink  rum. 

Clear  the  way  !  Clear  the  way  for  Lord  Wallace  !  exclaim- 
ed an'bfficer.  -  Make' room  for  Lord  Wallace. 

Walter  heard  this  name  pronounced,  and  looking  up,  .saw 
an  oli3  gehtl^riian  approachingy-followed'by  a  long  list  of 
Irie'nds^a^d  servants. 

This,  h'e  thought  to  himself,,  is  my  grand-father  Wallace.-  : 
"  On  a  'iiearer  view,  he  saw  tliat  he  was  a  man  of  about 
eighty  years,  'but  hale  and  'hearty. 

'  'A  boat  was  in' readiness  to  convey 'his  Lordship  on  board 
of  the  Reindeer.  A  plank  was  laid  from  the  dock'  to  the 
fcoat,  and  his  Lord  sliip  started  to  walk  onboard. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  boat,  when  the  plank  -slipped 
from  thjC  wharf,,  and  he  was  precipitated  into  the  ri.verv.  ,  It 


a  strong  ebb  tide,  and  a  few  feet  would  carry  him  uncle? 
the  vessel.  Walter  caught  the  end  of  a  rope  and  dove.  For 
a  moment  he  disappeared,  and  Tom  and  Frost  feared  that 
their  friend  was  drowned.  The  next  instant  he  appeared  at 
the  surface  holding  Lord  Wallace  by  the  hair. 

Tom  and  Frost  pulled  in  the  rope,  and  grand-father  and 
grand-son  were  safely  landed.  The  elder  Wallace  was  ap- 
parently dead.  • 

Stand  back,  men  !  Stand  back  !  cried  Tom  at  the  top  of 
his  voice.  Roll  him  on  the  barrel,  Jack, 

There  men,  gently.     Roll  him  gently,  said  Walter. 

The  rolling  had  the  desired  effect,  and  in  a  few  moments 
he  \vas  relieved  of  the  water  he  had  taken  in,  and  showed 
signs  of  returning  consciousness.  In  a  few  moments  he  was 
able  to  speak. 

To  whom  am  I  indebted  for  my  deliverance  from  a  watery 
grave  ?  he  asked. 

To  this  young  man,  replied  Tom  pointing  to  Walter. 

Are  you  one  of  the  crew  of  the  Reindeer  ? 

I  have  the  honor  to  serve  in  that  capacity  to-day  my 
Lord. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  old  man  was  bent  on  the  youth  be- 
fore him,  and  something  there  reminded  him  of  days  long 
passed.  He  saw  in  the  young  man  a  duplicate  of  a  picture 
that  hung  in  his  gallery.  Memory  flashed  the  fact  home 
that  more  than  twenty  years  before  he  had  driven  from  his 
home  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  young  man  who  had  so 
nobly  saved  his  life. 

Young  man,  he  said,  you  have  done  me  one  favor.  Will 
you  now  promise  to  do  me  another  ? 

Certainly,  my  Lord,  if  it  is  consistant,  replied  Walter. 


Then  accompany  me  to  my  house,  to  the  end  that  we  may 
Income  better  acquainted. 

Yes,  on  one  condition — that  my  mess-mates  can  accom- 
pany me. 

Certainly,  the  whole  ship's  crew  if  you  desire. 

A  conveyance  was  procured,  and  in  a  few  moments  Wal- 
ter and  his  friends  were  being  driven  through  the  streets  Of 
London. 

This  was  both  new  and  novel  for  Walten  He  had  read 
something  of  London  fog,  London  life  and  London  women> 
but  on  London  noise  and  London  cold  he  was  not  posted,  es- 
pecially as  to  the  latter.  Both  himself  and  grand-father 
were  wet  to  the  skin  in  consequence  of  their  late  immersion 
in  the  Thames,  and5  long  before  they  reached  the  residence 
of  Lord  Wallace  t'fcey  both  chattered  with  the  cold.  At 
length  the  residence  is  reached  and  the  parties  alighted, 

Take  these  gentlemen  into  the  green  room,  and  furnish 
them  with  dry  clothes  and  a  good  fire,  said  Lord  Wallace  to 
his  servants, 

The  servants  beckoned  them  to  follow,  which  they  did. 

After  ascending  several  winding  stairs  and  traversing  in- 
tricate halls  and  gloomy  recesses,  they  were  ushered  into 
the  green  room,  where  a  blazing  fire  was  burning.  As  soon 
as  the  servant  retired,  Frost  approached  Walter  and  said  : 

Never  tell  me  again  that  Friday  is  an  unlucky  day.  I 
tell  you  friend  Walt,  that  Friday  is  your  lucky  day.  It  is  on 
Friday  that  your  star  is  on  the  meridian. 

How  so  ?  asked  Walter. 

It  was  on  Friday  we  sailed.  On  Friday  we  cast  anchor  on 
our  native  shore.  On  Friday  you  saved  the  life  of  Lord 
Wallace,  and  my  word  for  it,  it  is  a  lucky  day  for  you.  The 


137 

old  man  has  taken  a  liking  to  you, .and  he  will,,  d.q  some- 
thing handsome  for  you.  He  is  rich  as  a  jew,  without  a  wife, 
child  or  chicken. 

Have  you  ever  seen  him  before  ? 

Yes,  many  a  time.  I  remember  when  he  drove  his  son 
from  home  because  he  married  Amelia  Powers.  And  when 
I  return  from  a  cruise  he  asks  me  what  I  have  seen  or  .heard 
in  America.  I  believe  he  never  heard  from  his  son. 

Did  you  hear  the  son's  name  ? 

Oh,  yes.  His  name  was  William.  He  and  his  cousin, 
Thomas  Powers  had  a  quarrel  about  a  cock  fight..  The  old 
folks  interfered  and  made  fools  of  themselves,  and  in  the  ei;d. 
disinherited  their  children  for  following  the  dictates  of  their 
own  consciences  and  the  man  and  maid  of  their  choice.  . 

How  long  Frost  would  have  continued  the  history  it  is 
hard  to  tell.  But  at  this  point  a  servant  announced  thai  Lord 
Wallace  desired  their  company  in  the  dining  room. 

The  trio  followed  the  servant  to  the  dinning  room  where, 
they  found  Lord  Wallace  waiting. 

Sit  down,  gentlemen.  A  little  brandy  will  do  you  good. 
It  will  drive  away  coughs,  colds  and  rheumatism  which  will 
follow  the  cold  bath  we  took  this  morning.  Brandy.  Pure 
brandy.  Here,  Stupid,  (addressing  the  servant,)  fill  up  these 
glasses  with  the  pure  cognac.  Now  my  men,  lay  too  and 
help  yourselves.  Don't  feel  timid  because  you  are  'in  the 
house  of  a  Lord.  Eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  for  this,  my  son, 
was  dead,  but  now  is  alive.  He  was  lost,  but  now  is  fou'n<K 
Hie — hie — Come,  Stupid,  fill  up,  the  glasses — hie— hie. 

It  was  evident  that  his  Lordship  had  freely  imbibed  of 'his 
beverage,  brandy,  before  he  sent  for  his  friends,,  and  it  was 
with  difficulty  that  he  could  maintain  an  erect,  position  in- his 
chair. 


13$ 

He  commenced  again  : — 

Come,  harties— heave  to  and  get  yourselves  on  the  outside 
of  that  bottle  of  brandy.  Hie — hie — Its  the  pure  juice — hie. 
Here's  to  Cap-Cap-Captain  Davis  and  the  Reindeer.  Why 
in  the  devil  don't  you  drink  ? 

My  Lord,  you  must  excuse  us,  said  Walter.  We  don't 
drink.  'We  have  pledged  ourselves  not  to  touch,  taste  or 
handle  strong  drink.  We  think  the  soul  more  merry  and  the 
body  more  active  without  it. 

Who  the  devil  are  you  ?  what  the  devil  are  you?  where 
did  you  come  from  ?  Hie — hie.  This  is  a  day  of  surprises. 
The  arrival  of  the  Reindeer  was  a  surprise — my  baptism  was 
a  surprise — but  the  climax  of  all  surprises  is  to  find  three 
man-of-war's  men—three  Englishmen  that  refuse  brandy 
Impossible  !  Increditable  !  Unnatural.  Come  boys,  lay  to, 
take  a  swig  with  the  old  man,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  downed  another  glass  of  brandy. 

I  say.  Stupid,  why  don't  you  make  these  old  tars  d-r-i-n-k. 
Yes-d-r-i-n-k-hic-hic. 

The  old  man  dropped  his  glass  and  fell  back  in*  his  chair 
in  a  drunken  slumber.  Walter  viewed  him  intently  for  a 
few  moments,  then  said  : 

Rather  a  bad  example  for  a  grand-father  to  set  before  his 
son. 

His  son?  exclaimed  Frost.  What  do  you  mean  by  that? 
and  what  did  he  mean  when  he  said  "  the  dead  are  alive,  the 
lost  is  found  ? "  . 

It  means,  replied  Walter,  that  I  am  his  grand-son.        'i 

What?  the  son  of  William  Wallace?  the  one  that  was  driv- 
en from  home  for  marrying  Amelia  Powers  ? 

Exactly  so,  my  friend  Frost.'  But  let  that  remain  a  secret 
for  the  present.  ; 


Would  you  know  your  father's  picture  if  you  should  see 
it  ?  asked  Tom. 

Yes,  as  well  as  I  would  my  own. 

Then  you  shall  see  it.     Here,  Stupid  !     Where  are  you  ? 

Stupid  stepped  into  the  room. 

Show  us  to  your  Master's  gallery,  said  Tom. 

In  a  few  niihutes  the  trio  stood  in  the  art  gallery 
of  the  Wallace  mansion^  One  side  of  the  room  was  filled 
with  statuary,  rusty  swords  and  worn  out  helmets.  The 
Other  side  contained  the  pictures  of  the  Wallace  family  for 
several  generations.  Walter's  eye  fell  on  that  of  his  father 
and  of  his  aunt  Mary,the  mother  of  Amy.  His  gaze  was  long 
and  earnest.  In  Mary,  he  saw  the  form  and  figure  of  his 
long,  lost  Amy. 

How  could  he  !  How  could  he  !  he  exclaimed,  drive  away 
two  such  lovely  beings  from  his  home?  How  could  he  be  so 
unnatural  as  to  violate  the  laws  of  his  own  nature  and  turn 
from  his  home  his  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  I  should  think  that 
these  walls.would  have  cried  out  "  Father,savemother,save  me 
from  this  great  and  unnatural  wrong."  Let  us  go,  Frost,  let 
us  leave  this  memorial  of  :the  .past.  Let  us  visit  your  happy 
home,  and  see  the  contrast  between  the  poor — happy  and 
contented  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  lordly,  wealthy  and  mis- 
erable on  the  other. 

Lord  Wallace  slept  and  snored  and  snored  and  slept,  until 
the  fumes  of  the  brandy  had  passed  off.  He  then  was,  in  a 
measure  himself  again.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked 
around, seemingly  with  the  expectation  of  seeing  the  three 
sailors,  but  he  looked  in  vain.  They  were  gone. 

Stupid  !  he  cried.  Stupid,  you  blockhead  !  Where  are 
the  sailors  that  were  here  a  few  moments  ago  ? 

They  are  gone,  my  Lord. 


140 

Gone  where  ?  (bringing  his  cane  down  on  the  table  with 
such  violence  as  to  set  the  tumblers  dancing.)  How  dare  you 
suffer  them  to  depart  without  informing  me  ?  Go  and  get 
them  and  bring  them  back  immediately,  or  I  will  break  ev- 
ery bone  in  your  body. 

My  Lord,  I  neither  know  where  they  live  or  where  they 
have  gone.  After  you  went  to  sleep,  they  went  to  the  gal- 
lery. There  the  young  sailor  that  fished  you  out  became  in- 
terested in  the  portrait  of  your  absent  son  William.  I  heard 
him  say  "  father,"  and  the  one  by  his  side  he  called  "  aunt 
Mary."  I  heard  him  say  "  How  could  he  be  so  unnatural  as 
to  drive  two  such  lovely  beings  from  his  home  ?" 

What  further  did  he  say  ? 

He  said  "  Let  us  go,"  and  they  departed. 

The  old  man  bent  his  head  on  the  table,  and  for  some  mo- 
ments remained  silent.  At  last  he  said  to  himself  : 

What  does  this  mean  ?  What  is  it  about  this  young  man 
that  impresses  me  so  ?  What  interest  can  he  have  in  the 
pictures  in  the  gallery  ?  What  can  he  know  of  my  son  or  the 
causes  that  sent  him  to  America  ?  This  must  have  a  deep 
meaning.  Captain  Davis  must  be  able  to  explain  it.  I  will 
go  to  him  immediately.  Stupid, tell  Gehu  that  I  am  ready  to 
go  on  board  of  the  Reindeer. 

A  gentleman  is  waiting  for  you  in  the  library,  said 
Stupid. 

Who  is  he  ?  and  what  does  he  want  ?  impatiently  asked 
Wallace. 

He  is  a  stranger,  my  Lord,  but  here  is  his  card. 

The  old  gentleman  took  the  card,  a^c}  rea.d ;  «'  Lieutenant 
powers,  of  the  ship 


HI 

What!  exclaimed  Wallace.  Charles  Powers,  the  son  of 
toy  most  inveterate  enemy — he  wishes  to  see  me  ?  Not  one  of 
that  family  have  darkened  my  doors  for  over  twenty  years. 
But  I  will  see  him. 

Wallace  proceeded  to  the  library,  trying  to  revolve  in  his 
mind  what  had  brought  the  Lieutenant  to  his  house.  En- 
tering, he  found  the  Lieutenant  pacing  the  floor.  Turning, 
I  ;ey  met,  face  to  face.  Each  seemed  to  be  at  a  loss  as  to 
Who  should  speak  first. 

My  Lord,  said  the  Lieutenant,  you  will  pardon  this  intru- 
sion. I  have  been  informed,  that  by  the  carelessness  of  one 
of  our  men,  you  met  with  a  serious  accident.  I  called  to  in- 
quire about  your  health. 

Yes,  Lieutenant,  by  someone's  carelessness,  I  was  plugged 
into  the  river.  But  by  the  cool  bravery  of  anothero'f  your  men 
I  was. saved.  Not  one  man  in  a  hundred  would  have  at- 
tempted my  rescue,and  not  one  man  in  thousand  would  have 
succeeded.  But  here  I  am.  That  is  proof  that  I  am  not 
drowned.  But  the  young  sailor  that  so  fearlessly  risked  his 
life  to  save  me  has  slipped  through  my  fingers. 

I  do  not  comprehend  your  meaning,  my  Lord,  replied  the 
Lie  -.tenant. 

I  am  not  surprised  at  that,  for  I  do  not  comprehend  it  my- 
self. This  much  I  know  however.  Three  of  your  men  ac- 
companied me  home.  By  the  time  we  arrived  here,  I  was 
chilled  through,  and  in  order  to  start  the  circulation,!  drank 
brandy  freely,and  offered  them  some,but  they  refused.  In  or- 
der to  encourage  them,  I  took  an  overdose,  and  soon  forgot 
whether  I  was  in  or  out  of  the  Thames.  When  I  awoke,they 
were  gone,  and  I  was  just  starting  to  board  the  Reindeer  to 
learn  who  the  young  man  was.  But&s  he  is  one  of  your  men, I 
presume  that  you  can  give  me  the  desired  information. 


me  my  Lord,  but  I  am  not  at  liberty  to    speak   for. 
•the  young  man  you  allude  to.     All  I  can  say  is,  that  he    was 
a  passenger  on  board  of  the  Reindeer — a    guest    of   Captain 
'Davis  and  wife.     But,  my   Lord,   why  so   much   solicitation 
about  this  young  man  ?     He  simply  did  his  duty   as    a    man 
'and  sailor.     He- exercised  the  common  instincts    of    human- 
ity, that  is  all.     And  now,  my  Lord,  when  may  Captain   Da- 
vis'expect  you  on  board  of  the  Reindeer  ? 

Immediately,  he  replied.  I  was  on  the  point  of  going 
when  I  received  your  card. 

Then,  my  Lord,  I  will  bid  you  good  day,  and  I    trust    that 
you  will  reach  the  deck  in  safety. 
Do  you  return  to  the  ship  ? 

Not  at  present..  I  have  not  seen  my  father  yet.  I  shall 
spend  the  afternoon  with  him  and  return  on  board  of  fie 
Reindeer  in. the  evening.  . 

The  word  "father"  fell  on  the  ear  of  the  old  man  with 
more  than  ordinary  significance.  He  was  a  father,  yet  he 
had  no  child.  Other  homes  were  made  bright  and  happy. 
The  voices. of  children  and  grand-children  were  to  be  heard, 
the  infirmaties  of  old  age  were  softened  and  soothed  by  the 
lisping  and  prattling  of  the  little  ones. 

But  my  house  is  dark,  doleful  and  deserted.  Servants  and 
servants  only  meet  and  greet  me.  Oh,  my  God  !  he  exclaim- 
ed audibly,  what  have  I  done  to  be  deprived  of  the  comforts 
that  others  enjoy  ?  Yes,  what  have  I  done — or  rather  what 
have  I  not  done  ?  Lieutenant,!  am  a  monster — a  demon — an 
unnatural  father.  I  will  smother  it  no  longer.  The  fair 
form  and  figure  of  that  young  sailor  has  caused  the  scales  to 
fall  from  my  eyes.  I  wronged  my  children,  but  I  wronged 
.myself  more,  .They  have  gone.  They  are  beyond  reproach. 
..  .They  have  not  remorse  nor  the  sting  of  a  guilty  conscience. 


143 

They  have  gone  to  a  world  of  bliss,a  world  of  peace  and  joy. 
I  remain.  I  remain  alone.  Not  one  drop  of  my  blood  circu- 
lates in  the  veins  of  any  mortal.  Lieutenant,  excuse  this 
weakness.  Go  and  administer  to  the  wants  of  your  father, 
Tell  him  I  forgive  him  for  all  real  or  imaginary  wrongs. 
Yes,  tell  him  I  ask  his  forgiveness,  and  wish  to  be  forgiven 
before  the  dark  veil  of  the  future  is  withdrawn.  Tell  him 
that  I  am  a  miserable,  lonely,  unhappy  man.  Tell  him  that 
this  day  I  have  seen  the  ghost  of  his  and  my  child,  dressed 
in  the  garb  of  a  common  sailor. 

Lieutenant  Powers  had  been  an  interested  listener,  and 
was  more  than  half  convinced  that  Lord  Wallace  would  be- 
come reconciled  to  own  and  receive  his  grand-son.  He  saw 
that  his  memory  had  been  awakened  and  his  suspicions 
aroused  by  the  young  man  who  had  saved  his  life. 

I  must  bid  you  good  day,  my  Lord,  and  hurry  to  my  fath- 
.er,  realizing  that  I  shall  meet  you  on  board  of  the  Reindeer 
this  evening. 

Lord  Wallace  rose  from  his  chair  and  attempted  to  ex- 
tend his  hand,  but  his  emotions  overcame  him.  After  falter- 
ing for  several  moments,  he  gave  vent  to  his  thoughts. 

Lieutenant,  excuse  me  for  asking  one  more  question. 

Certainly,  my  Lord. 

In  your  rambles  in  America,  have  you  learned  the  truth  as 
to  the  death  of  those  that  your  father  and  myself  so  wrong- 
fully drove  to  that  wilderness  world  ? 

I  have  heard,  my  Lord,  that  they  are  dead.  I  had  the 
whole  country  searched  at  the  time,and  the  result  convinced 
me  that  all  four  perished  by  drowning; 

But  they  each  had  a  child.     Did  they  perish  also  ? 
The  Lieutenant  was  now  brought  to  a  point  that  there  was 
n,o  evading,    It  had  been  his  intenU?^  of  breaking  th.e  ti 


U4 

to  his  father  before  acquainting  Lord  Wallace  with  the  fact 
that  the  simple  sailor  that  saved  his  life  was  none  other  than 
his  own  grand-son.  But  to  deny  or  evade  the  truth,he  could 
n-'t.  He  replied  : 

My  Lord,  we  have  some  reason  for  believing  that  their 
children  are  alive. 

Have  you  seen,  them  ?  he  asked,  while  the  tears  trickled 
down  his  cheeks. 

Yes,  replied  the  Lieutenant. 

When  ? 

This  morning.  Walter  Wallace,  your  grand-son,  left  the 
ship  with  two  other  sailors, and  the  first  act  that  he  perform- 
ed after  reaching  the  shore,  was  to  save  his  grand-father's 
life.  It  was  he  that  rescued  you  from  a  watery  grave.  It 
was  he  that  refused  your  brandy.  It  was  the  son  of  your 
long,  lost  William.  N 

Thank  heaven  !  the  old  man  replied.  I  shall  have  the  oppor- 
tunity in  part  to  attone  for  my  past  errors.  I  discarded  my 
child  then.  Now  I  will  own,  cherish  and  protect  his  off- 
spring. But  you  say  nothing  of  the  other  child.  Where  is 
she.  Where  is  the  child  of  Mary  Powers  ? 

My  Lord,  yon  must  excuse  me  for  not  answering  that 
question.  When  you  see  your  grand  son  he  will  inform  you 
of  all. 

And  when  will  I  see  him  ? 

On  board  of  the  Reindeer  to-night.  Until  that  time  you 
must  excuse  me.  Good  day.  I  go  to  see  my  father. 

Lord  Wallace  was  alone,  and  for  a  long  time  ^  communed 
with  his  own  thoughts. 

What  fools,  he  thought  to  himself,  we  have  been.  And  all 
over  a  cock  fight.  The  children  exercised  more  judgement 
than  their  parents.  They  forgave  each  other,  while  the  Ad- 


145 

miral  and  I  have  kept  alive  the  old  animosity,  and  made 
ourselves  miserable.  But  thank  God  sunlight  begins  to  fil- 
ter through  the  dark  clouds  that  so  long  have  separated 
me  from  my  child.  I  will  take  them  home  to  live  with  me, 
and  hereafter  I  will-have  sunlight  in  my  house  and  joy  in 
my  heart. 


CHAPTER     XV. 

Death  of  Admiral  Powers— Five  Years  in  a  Mad  House— Ap- 
pointed Lieutenant— Return  to  America. 


In  one  of  the  most  elegant  houses,on  one  of  the  most  fash- 
ionable streets  in  London,  sat  two  persons  before  a  blazmg 
fire.  One  was  a  young  woman,  dressed  in  the  height  of  fash- 
ion, yet  scarcely  twenty  years  of  age.  Her  countenance 
beamed  with  intelligence,  as  she  closely  watched  the  rjerson 
that  occupied  the  old  arm  chair  in  the  opposite  corner.  It 
was  evident  from  the  appearance  of  her  countenance  that 
something  was  operating  upon  her  mind  of  more  than  ordi- 
nary importance,  and  from  which  she  seemed  to  shrink. 
She  closely  watched  the  features  of  her  companion  as  if  de- 
termined to  read  his  thoughts.  This  was  Miss  Powers.  The 
other  was  Admiral  Powers,  her  father.  He  had  passed  his 
three-score-years-and-ten.  He  sat  in  his  chair,  with  a  large 
heavy  cane  in  his  right  hand.  It  was  hard  to  determine 
whether  he  was  awake  or  asleep.  His  eyes  o'pened  and  slnit 
at  regular  intervals.and  his  cane  kept  a  continual  thump-thump 
on  the  floor.  Occasionally  he  would  turn  his  face  toward  his 
daughter,  and  move  the  muscles,  as  if  about  to  address  her, 
then  suddenly  relapse  into  his  former  state.  If  awake,  it 
was  evident  that  he  was  trying  to  conquor  some  emotion. 


At  length  he  brought  his  cane  down  as  if  to  emphasize  what 
he  was  about  to  say. 

Cora  ! 

Yes,  fall  er,  I  am  here. 

Well,  tell  me  something  I  don't  know  !  Tell  me  why 
Charles  don't  come  !  Ungrateful  dog  !  I  suppose  he  will 
call  on  everybody*  in  London  before  he  thinks  of  his 
father  ! 

No,  father,  you  do  him  an  injustice.  He  will  come  as 
soon  as  his  business  permits. 

Cora,  you  are  impertinent.  You  charge  your  father  with 
injustice.  Have  I  ever  been  unjust  to  one  of  my  children? 

I  did  not  mean  that  father,  I  meant  that  you  were  mis- 
taken. That  Charles— 

That  fiddle-sticks  !  Remember,girl,that  I  am  never  mistak- 
en. That  what  I  know  I  know,  and  what  I  know  is  law. 

I  meant  father,  that  Charles  would  be  here,  as  soon  as  he 
accomplishes  the  business  he  was  sent  on  by  Captain 
Davis. 

Capitan  Davis  has  no  authority  over  my  son  while  on  land. 
You  forget  that  1  am  Admiral  here — Lord  High  Admiral. 

I  forget  nothing,  father.  But  Captain  Davis  sent  Charles 
on  a  mission  of  humanity  and  as  soon  as  that  is  accomp- 
lished he  will  be  here.  An  accident  happened  to  Lord  Wal- 
lace at  the  wharf  this  morning. 

Accidents  are  always  happening  him.  I  hope  this  time  he 
got  drowned  in  earnest. 

No,  father,  not  drowned,  but  nearly  so.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  a  young  man  that  belongs  to  the  Reindeer,  he  would 
have  perished. 

Curse  the  young  man  that  saved  him.  He  ought  to  have 
let  him  go  and  become  food  for  the  sharks. 


147 

Oh,  father,  don't  say  that. 

Yes,  I  will  say  that !  I  say  he  ought  to  have  been  drown- 
ed years  ago  !  Didn't  he  rob  me  of  a  son  and  daughter  ? 

I  presume  he  would  say  that  you  robbed  him  in  the  same 
way. 

Presume,  eh  !  What  right  have  you  to  presume  ?  (bring- 
ing down  his  cane,)  I'll  teach  you  to  presume,  you  hussy  ! 
You  charge  your  father  with  robbing  !  (thump — thump.) 

Oh,  no,  father,  I  don't  charge  you  with  anything.  I  don't 
mean  anything, 

I  do.  I  mean  everything,(striking  the  table  with  his  cane.) 
You  must  have  been  taking  lessons  from  the  red-skins  in 
America,  and  haven't  retained  their  manners.  You  are  a 
regular  wild-cat — catamount — tiger — rattlesnake  ! 

A  servant  enters  and  announces  the  arrival  of  Lieutenant 
Powers. 

Send  the  contembtaple  dog  in  !  he  exclaimed  in  a  rage. 

Father,  he  is  your  son.     Don't  call  him  a  dog. 

I  shall  call  him  what  I  please  !     I  will  ! — I  will  ! 

The  Lieutenant  enters,  and  with  extended  hands  ap- 
proaches his  father. 

My  dear  father !     How  do  you  do  ? 

How  do  I  do  ?  What  do  you  care  how  I  do  ?  It  seems 
that  I  am  the  last  one  you  think  of.  I  learn  sir,  that  you 
passed  by  me — that  you  called  on  Lord  Wallace — my  most 
inveterate  enemy ! 

You  are  mistaken,  father,  he  is  not  your  enemy. 

Zounds  !  boy  !  You  must  be  drunk  or  crazy  !  You  would 
make  me  believe  that  he  is  my  friend  ? 

Such  is  the  case,  father.  He  wishes  to  bury  the  past.  Ho 
desires  a  reconciliation  between  the  families  of  Powers  and 
Wallace.  He  wishes,  before  he  closes  his  eyes  in  death,  to 
forgive  and  be  forgiven, 


148 

That  shows  that  he  is  a  craven  coward.  Scared  at  the 
prospect  of  hell,  of  which  he  had  a  slight  view  this*  morning 
while  tinder  water.  That  is  the  cause  of  this  sudden  repent- 
ance, and  will  last  as  long  as  his  clothes  are  wet.  No  long- 
er, boy — no  longer.  Have  you  no  other  reason  why  you  be- 
lieve this  repentance  genuine? 

I  have,  father,  the  best  of  reasons  why  I  believe  him  sin- 
cere. Remorse,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  hope  of  reward  on 
the  other,  are  the  causes  that  lead  him  to  seek  this  reconcil- 
iation. Remorse  for  driving  his  children  from  his  home — 
Reward  in  receiving  them  back. 

Receiving  who  back  ?  exclaimed  the  Admiral,  attempting 
to  rise  from  his  chair. 

The  Lieutenant  continued  : 

In  owning  and  receiving  in  his  house  and  heart  the  son  of 
your  daughter  Amelia — the  son  of  his  son  William — the  rep- 
resentative of  both  families,  and  is  the  only  one  living  that 
has  the  right  to  call  you  grand-father. 

Did  you  learn  this  on  your  last  cruise  to  America  ? 

I  did — or  rather  on  our  return,  replied  the  Lieutenant. 

The  old  Admiral  sank  back  in  his  chair,  closed  his  eyes, 
and  remained  silent  for  some  moments.  Occasionally  he 
would  strike  his  cane  on  the  floor  and  move  himself  about  in 
his  chair.  The  Lieutenant  and  Cora  watched  him  with  in- 
terest. At  last  he  opened  his  eyes  and  attempted  to  speak, 
but  instantly  closed  then  again.  It  was  evident  that  he  was 
struggling  with  his  feelings, but  he  said  or  did  nothing  to  com- 
mit himself.  A  long  silence  ensued,  then  rising  to  his  feet, 
said  : 

Charles,  where  is  this  person  you  were  speaking  of  ?  Is  it 
a  boy  or  girl  ? 

It  is  a  boy — or  rather  man,  father,  and  his  name  is  Walter 
Wallace. 


149 

At  the  mention  of  this  name,  the  Admiral  turned  red  in 
the  face. 

Walter  Wallace  !  he  exclaimed.  The  name  of  my  despised 
enemy.  But  what  of  my  son  Thomas? 

Dead  ?  replied  the  Lieutenant. 

His  wife?  gasped  the  Admiral. 

Dead  !  replied  the  son. 

They  had  a  child  named  after — after — 

Here  his  feelings  controlled  his  actions..  He  was  about  to 
speak  the  name  of  her  who  had  been  the  companion  of  his 
youth — the  wife  of  his  bosom — the  mother  of  his  children. 
It  carried  him  back — yes  way  back  to  the  .time  .  he  led  his 
Amy  to  the  alter.  He  remembered  the  first  born  of  that 
happy  union.  He  remembered  of  dancing  his  little  Thomas 
on  his  knee,  and  hearing  him  speak  those  soul-inspiring 
words  "  Pa-pa."  He  remembered  of  this  boy  growing  to  be 
a  man.  He  remembered  of  hearing  him  say  '•'  Father,  I  love 
Mary  Wallace,  and  for  her  I  will  forsake  father,  mother  and 
country,  For  her  and  with  her  I  will  go  to  America."  He 
remembered  of  saying,  (it  still  rang  in  his  ears,)  "  Leave  your 
home!  Leave  my  house  !  Never  intrude  your  person  on 
my  presence  again,  or  darken  my  door  with  your  shadow." 
He  remembered  Thomas's  last  words  : 

"Father,  as  you  wish,  so  shall  it  be.  Farewell,  father,  for- 
ever, farewell." 

He  remembered  that  he  had  learned  that  Thomas  and 
Mary  had  a  child.  They  called  it 

Oh,  my  God!  he  exclaimed,  How  can  I  speak  that 
name  ? 

You  mean  Amy,  replied  the  Lieutenant. 

,  I  mean  Amy,  my  grand-daughter.     Is  she  dead  also? 


150 

Walter  Wallace  believes  .that  she  lives,  and  that  we  shall 
see  her,  .said  Cora. 

At  the  sound,  of  this  name  the  Admiral  fairly  raved,  and 
bringing-  his  cane  down  on  the  table  exclaimed  : 

Curse  Walter  Wallace  !  Don't  mention  his  name  again  in 
my  house !  I  was  inquiring  about  my  grand-daughter, 
Amy.  What  do  you  know  about  her.  . 

Nothing,  father,  but  what  Walter  Wallace  has 

Stop!  cried  the  Admiral,  raising  his  cane  as  if  to  strike 
Cora.  I  forbid  the  mention  of  that  name  in  my  house  ! 

But  father,  it  is  only  through  him  that  we  can  learn  of 
Amy.  Father,  request  him  to  come  here  and  tell  us  what  he 
knows  about  her. 

Request — ah — Do  you  think  that  I  can  make  my  voice 
heard  across  the  Atlantic  in  one  breath  ?  and  that  he  could 
step  from  there  here  the  next  ? 

Father,  said  Cora,  he  is  already  here.  It  was  he  that 
plunged  into  the  river  and  saved  the  life  of  Lord  Wallace. 

He  saved  the  life  of  Lord  Wallace — ah — curse  him!  Curse 
the  day  he  was  born  !  The  old  man  fell  back  heavily  in  his 
chair.his  cane  dropped  to  the  floor,and  his  right  hand  sought 
the  region  of  his  heart. 

A  return  of  his  old  complaint  !  exclaimed  Cora  excited!)'. . 

Admiral  Powers  is  carried  to  his  room,  and  the  family 
physician  is  soon  at  his  side.  He  seemed  unconscious,  yet 
intelligence  beamed  in  his  countenance.  His  eyes  opened 
and  gazed  at  the  different  objects  in  the  room.  His  lips 
moved  as  if  trying  to  talk. 

Raise  me  up,  he  said. 

He  was  raised  up.  Then  by  a  mighty  e^ffort;  h,e  gasped  his 
hands,  closed  his  eyes  and  said  ; 

L,et  me  pray. 


IS! 

That  was  a  mental  prayer,  not  heard  on  earth, but  answer* 
ed  in  heaven.  For  nearly  an  hour  he  lay  in  the  same  attitude, 
his  lips  faintly  moving. 

Thus  did  Admiral  Powers  manfully  fight  his  last  battle. 
Tin's  battle  was  between  himself,  his  nature,  and  his  God, 

Doctor,  said  the  Lieutenant,  we  await  you  directions. 

The  doctor  replied  : 

I  have  no  medicine  that  will  cure  this  disorder.  I  can  on- 
ly direct  that  you  prepare  for  the  change  that  must  soon 
take  place.  Your  father  has  but  a  few  days — perhaps  hours 
to  live.  If  he  has  any  requests  or  bequests  to  make,  now  is  his 
time  to  make  them. 

Satisfaction  smiled  in  his  countenance.  Intelligence 
beamed  in  his  eyes.  He  spoke  : 

Doctor,  you  are  right.  My  malady  is  beyond  your  skill 
The  heart  that  has  beat  foi  over  sixty  years,  has  burst.  It 
can  beat  but  a  few  times  more.  The  valves  in  the  pump 
have  weakened,  and  soon  the  ship  must  go  down.  I  want  to 
float  a  little  longer — just  a  little  longer.  For  the  last  hour 
I  have  been  sailing  over  the  seas  of  my  boyhood,  my  man- 
hood and  the  channels  of  mature  age.  I  can  plainly  see 
how,  when  and  where  I  wrecked  all  my  earthly  happiness, 
and  as  a  guide  to  all  others  who  are  compelled  to  embark 
en  , this  Oea,  I  hold  up  this  chart :  "Parents,  always  advise, 
but  never  control  your  children  in  their  choice  of  their  help- 
mate for  life."  It  was  on  this  rock  1  struck,  and  on  this 
rock  lies  my  wreck,  and  under  this  wreck-lay  my  children. 
May  God  forgive  me. 

The  pump  is  working  better  now.  I  hope  it  will  not  choke 
again  until  I  get  my  sails  trimmed  and  my  anchor  ready  to 
cast.  Lieutenant,  send  for  Lord  Wallace.  Send  for  his 
and  my  grand-son.  Tell  them  it  is  my  dying  request.  Send 


for  my  lawyer,  as  I  have  some  changes  to  make  in   my  will, 
Now,  friends,  let  me  rest  until  they  come. 

The  Lieutenant  beckoned  Cora  aside, 

Write  a  note  to  Captain  Davis.  Tell  him  that  the.Admiral 
is  dying  and  requests  him  to  come  herd  I  will  see  Walter 
and  Lord  Wallace. 

The  Lieutenant  went  directly  to  the  home  of  Frost,  where 
he  found  Walter  and  Jones.  Calling  Walter  aside,  he  said  : 

Your  grand-father  Powers  has  but  a  short  time  to  live  and 
wishes  to  see  you  before  he  expires.  Frost  will  show  you 
the  way.  Enquire  for  Cora  and  wait  in  the  psrlof  until  I 
come.  I  go  to  request  the  attendance  of  Lord  Wallace; 

Will  I  be  welcome  ?  asked  Walter. 

Yes,  responded  the  Lieutenant,  and  then  left. 

On  arriving  there,  he  met  the  party  leaving  to  go  on  board 
of  the  Reindeer.  Taking  Lord  Wallace  aside,  he  explained 
to  him  the  situation,  and  requested  his  immediate  attend- 
ance. 

I  will  go  with  you,  Lieutenant,  but  first  let  me  write  a 
note  to  Captain  Davis. 

That  has  already  been  done,  replied  the  Lieutenant.  Cap* 
tain  Davis  will  be  there. 

But  my  grand-son.     Where  is  he  ? 

On  his  way  to  witness  his  grand-father's  death.  But  let 
us  move  on. 

On  the  way  they  notified  the  family  lawyer  that  his  ser- 
vices  were  needed  at  the  Admiral's. 

He  hung  the  green  bag  over  his  arm,  and  all  three  walked 
to  the  house  of  death.  Cora  met  them  at  the  door  and  con- 
ducted them  to  the  parlor,where  they  found  the  family  phy* 
sician. 


153 

1    How  is  your  patient,  doctor  ?  exclaimed  the  Lieutenant 

He  sleepeth. 

Dead  ?  exclaimed  the  Lieutenant. 

No,  not  dead,  but  sleeping  quietly.  We  have  nothing  to 
do  but  wait  and  watch.  If  he  awakes  from  this  sleep,  he 
may  live  for  some  hours — perhaps  some  days. 

Again  Cora  goes  to  the  door  and  admits  Walter  and  his 
two  friends. 

This  way,  she  said,  and  conducted  them  to  the  library. 
Then  taking  Walter  by  the  hand  said  : 

You  have  arrived  in  time  to  see  your  grand-father  alive. 
Follow  me. 

She  opened  the  door,  and  by  a  -wave  of  the  hand  ordered 
the  servants  to  depart. 

Thus,  child  and  grand-child  were  alone  with  the  dying.. 
His  face  was  flushed,  yet  there  was  no  signs  of  pain  or  dis- 
content. Walter's  feelings  were  deeply  aroused.  Before 
him  lay  the  father  of  his  long  dead  mother.  The  sight  car- 
tied  him  back  to  the  events  on  the  Callicoon,  where  he  had 
often  seen  his  mother,  on  bended  knee,  pouring  out  her  soul 
to  God  in  behalf  of  him  who  was  now  dying  before  him. 
Where  he  had  heard  her  say  : 

"Father  in  Heaven,  forgive  him  ;  he  knows  not  what  he 
has  done  J " 

Can  I  do  less  ?  Yes,  grand-father,  I  forgive  you.  For  my 
sake— for  my  parents  sake,  I  forgive  you.  And  while  life 
lasts.I  will  kiss  the  lips  that  have  often  kissed  my  mother,and 
he  instinctively  bent  over  the  dying  man. 

.    Hist  !  said  Cora,     He  wakes. 

'  .The  Admiral  opened    his    eyes    and    attempted,    to    ra,;s.Q 


Gently .grand-father,gently.     Let  me  help  you.,said  Waitef. 

Grand-father— who  calls  me  grand-father  ?  exclaimed  the 
dying  man. 

This,  said  Cora,  is  Walter,  the  son  of  Amelia,  the  young- 
man  we  spoke  to  you  about — the  one  that  saved  the  life  of 
Lord  Wallace. 

Then  throw  open  the  shutters  and  let  in  the  light.  Come 
closer,  boy — come  closer.  Let  me  look  into  your  eyes  before 
the  wreck  goes  down.  Yes,  I  see.  There  are  your  mother's 
soft,  blue  eyes,  and  your  father's  manly  form.  Where  is  the 
lawyer  ? 

In  the  parlor,  father,  said  Cora. 

I  wish  to  see  him  alone. 

Jenks,  said  the  Admiral  feebly,  have  you  brought  my 
will  with  you  ? 

I  have  inhere,  replied  the  man  of  briefs. 

Add  a  codicil  by  which  my  children  and  grand-children 
share  equally.  Draw  a  draft  in  favor  of  my  grand-son,  Wal- 
ter Wallace,  for  one  thousand  pounds. 

The  draft  was  presented  and  signed. 

Now  get  one  of  those  blank  commissions  and  fill  it  out 
in  the  second  grade. 

It  was  a  great  effort  for  the  Admiral  to  sign  it  on  account 
of  pain. 

There,  he  said  as  he  threw  the  pen  down.  That  is  rqy  last 
official  act.  Place  the  draft  and  commission  in  an  envelope 
directed  to  Captain  Davis  with  directions  that  it  shall  not  be 
opened  until  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  the  Reindeer 
shall  start  on  her  next  voyage, 

It  shall  be  done,  said  the  lawyer. 

The  Admiral  beckoned  them  all  to  com§  pear. 


155 

My  earthly  business  is  completed,  he  said.  Now  let  ftifc 
bid  my  children  and  friends  farewell. 

The  folding  doors  opened,  and  in  walked  the  Lieutenant, 
followed  by  Cora,  Walter,  Lord  Wallace  and  Captain  Davis. 
The  Admiral  extended  his  hand  and  said  : 

My  grand-son,  can  you  fovgive  the  wrong  that  I  have  did 
you  and  yours  ? 

Yes>  grand-father,  Walter  replied,  In  the  name  of,  and  in 
behalf  of  my  mother,  I  forgive  you. 

Did  your  mother  speak  of  me  ?     Did  she  bless  or  curse  me  ? 

She  loved  and  prayed  for  you. 

The  old  man,  still  holding  Walter  by  the  hand,  fell  back  on 
his  pillow  exhausted.  In  a  moment  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
extended  his  other  hand. 

My  Lord,  addressing  Lord  Wallace,  I  forgive.  Am  I  for- 
given ? 

God  be  my  Judge  !  exclaimed  Lord  Wallace.  A&  I  hope  to 
be  forgiven,  so  do  I  forgive  you. 

Then,  said  the  Admiral,  I  will  perform  my  my  last  act.and 
I  call  upon  all  present  to  witness  my  last  words.  Here,  in 
fie  presence  of  my  God  and  these  witnesses,  I  own  and  ac- 
knowledge the  youth  I  hold  by  the  hand  to  be  .  my  lawful 
heir — the  son  of  my  daughter  Amelia.  Captain  Davis,  I  re- 
sign him  to  your  care.  Lay  me  down.  My  sails  are  spread 
for  a  distant  clime.  The  rigging  is  taut.  My  anchor  is  hove 
for  the  last  cruise.  Jordon's  waters  roll  smoothly  across  the 
valley  of  death.  Angels  are  my  pilots.  They  know  the 
course  and  all  the  reefs  and  rocks  under  the  swells.  Angels 
lead  me.  They  are  the  children  that  went  before  me.  They 
clasp  my  hand  and  press  it  to  their  hearts.  Yes,  it  is  they— 
it  is  Thomas  and  Amelia.  Cast  off,  men — cast  off!  I  am 
homeward  bound.  My  eye  is  on  the  Polar  Star.  My  anchor 
holds — yes  it  holds 


56 

Here  his  voice  became  inaudable,  but  his  lips  moved.  His 
voice  is  heard  once  more  : 

Peace,  be  still  !  and  he  fell  back  on  his  couch,  dead. 

The  intelligence  that  Admiral  Powers  was  dead  soon 
spread,  and  before  sun-down  the  public  buildings  were 
.  draped  in  mourning  and  the  shipping  in  the  harbor  had 
their  flags  at  half  mast. 

Lord  Wallace  called  the  Lieutenant  aside  : 

The  reception  on  board  of  the  Reindeer  to-night,  I  pre- 
sume will  be  deferred. 

Yes,  replied  the  Lieutenant.  Yet  it  will  be  necessary  for 
me  to  go  on  board,  as  Cora  informed  me  that  Walter  was  to 
meet  me  there  at  eleven. 

Why  not  meet  at  my  house  and  bring  Cora  with  you?  By 
the  way,  where  is  my  grand  son  ? 

He  disappeared  at  the  moment  of  my  father's  death, and  has 
not  been  seen  since. 

What  caused  him  to  leave  so  abruptly  ?  Perhaps  he 
thought  that  the  garb  of  a  common  sailor  was  not  in  keep- 
i_ng  with  his  present  station. 

I  do  not  think  that  was  the  reason,  my  Lord.  I  think  he 
was  determined  not  to  leave  the  company  of  Tom  and  Jack. 
He  has  undertaken  the  difficult  task  of  keeping  them  sober 
while  we  remain  in  port.  But  here  conies  Captain  Davis. 

A  warm  and  friendly  greeting  took  place  between  Captain 
Davis  and  Lord  Wallace. 

I  think,  said  Davis,  that  the  three  have  gone  to  Frost's 
house.  Let  us  join  them. 

Then  they  all  started. 

"What  is  it,  asked  Wallace,  that  has  caused  this  attachment 
between  the  sailors  and  my  grand-son  ?  Let  us  step  into 
this  club  house  where  you  can  relate  his  history  as  far  as 
you  know  it. 


157 

The  Lieutenant  then  related  Walter's  history,commencmg 
with  the  happy  hours  on  the  Callicoon,  and  ending  with  the 
death  scene  of  his  father.  During  this  recital.  Lord  Wallace 
became  very  emotional,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  he 
could  suppress  his  feelings.  When  the  mutiny  on  the  wharf 
was  recited,  he  could  not  control  himself. 

Brave  boy  ?  he  exclaimed.  He  is  a  hero  well  worth  the 
name  of  Wallace. 

The  parties  then  went  to  •  the  residence  of  Jack  Frost, 
where  they  found  WTalter  and  his  two  friends. 

Jack  had  related  to  his  wife  and  children  the  part  that 
Walter  had  taken  in  his  behalf  concerning  the  mutiny,  and 
ended  by  saying  that  he  and  his  friend  Tom  Jones  had 
pledged  themselves  never  again  to  taste,  touch  or  handle 
rum. 

At  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  Captain  Davis  and  party, 
Frost  and  his  friends  were  eating  dinner.  And  here  Lord 
Wallace  had  the  opportunity  of  seeing  the  fruit  of  love 
among  the  lowly.  He  could  see  there  joy  and  contentment 
that  had  never  entered  his  house. 

He  thought  to  himself  : 

This  is  the  way  my  banished  children  lived  in  the  wilds  of 
America.  They  loved,  and  lived  on  love.  Woe  unto  him 
that  undertakes  to  thwart  that  attribute. 

This,  said  Captain  Davis  is  your  grand- son,  and  this  is 
Lord  Wallace,  your  grand-father. 

Walter  extended  his  hand,  but  Lord  Wallace  faltered. 

Can  you,  he  said,take  my  hand  and  call  me  ''grand-father," 
— I  who  have  so  cruelly  wronged  your  parents— who  so  mad- 
ly drove  them  from  my  house  ? 

But  not  from  your  heart,  Walter  responded. 


158 

^Jo — no,  boy,  throwing  his  arm   about    him.      'They    have- 
always  occupied  a  place  there.      They    were    forgiven    long 
ago — yet  I  had  nothing  to  forgive.      I,   and    I  only    was  the 
one  to  ask  forgiveness. 

You  were  forgiven,  and  that  forgiveness  is  recorded  in 
heaven,  where  your  children  now  are.  Your  children  loved 
and  prayed  for  you. 

Bless  you,  my  son — may  God  bless  you.  And'  now,  here  in 
the  presence  of  these  witnesses,  I  receive  you  as  my  grand- 
son and  heir,  the  son  of  Amelia  and  William  Wallace. 

Excuse  me,  said  Lieutenant  Powers,  for  this  interruption, 
but  the  joy  of  this  meeting  has  caused  us  to  forget  our  duty 
to  the  dead.  We  must  make  arrangements  for  my  father's 
funeral. 

The  Navy  will  attend  to  that,  rejoined  Captain  Davis. 
And  as  the  object  of  the  meeting  on  board  of  the  Reindeer  is 
accomplished  by  the  meeting  of  grand-father  and  grand-son 
at  this  place,  we  may  as  well  talk  of  the  future.  I  have 
learned  that  I  shall  soon  be  ordered  to  America.  Will  your 
grand-son  accompany  me  ? 

Certainly  not,  replied  Lord  Wallace.  He  will  remain  with 
me  and  take  the  position  in  society  that  he  is  entitled  to. 
And  the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  togo  to  my  tailor's  and  dress 
himself  in  costume  becoming  his  rank. 

Quick  glances  passed  between  Captain  Davis  and  his  L;eu« 
tenant.  They  knew  where  Walter's  heart  was.  They  knew 
that  it  was  in  America.  They  knew  that  he  would  rather 
give  up  his  new  found  relatives  with  all  their  wealth  and  ti- 
tles than  to  adandon  his  search  for  Amy.  Walter  saw  the 
dilemma  he  was  in.and  he  declared  his  purpose  at  once.  He 
said: 

My  Lord,  my  life  has  been  one  continual  struggle,  and  the 
object  of  that  struggle  has  been  to  find  myjfriends.  That  has 


159 

been  in  part  accomplished  to-day.  But  my  struggle  is  not 
over — my  mission  is  incomplete.  I  must  struggle  on  until  I 
find  my  Amy. 

At  the  mention  of  that  name,  Lord  Wallace  turned  pale 
and  fell  back  in  his  chair. 

Amy — Amy,  what  know  you  of  Amy  ?  Is  my  secret  out  ? 
Tell  me  boy — tell  me  what  you  know  of  Amy  ?  Know  you 
that  Amy  was  your  grand-mother's  name  ?  Know  you  that  I 
drove  her  mad  ?  Know  you,  that  in  driving  my  children 
from  their  homes  I  drove  their  mother  to  her  grave?  Oh, 
my  God  !  Oh,  my  God  !  I  am  crushed  !  Amy,  the  compan- 
ion of  my  youth — the  mother  of  my  children — driven  out — 
dead — dead — dead  ! 

And  fainting,  he  fell  to  the  floor. 

Surprise  was  depicted  on  all  countenances  but  one.  Wal- 
ter now  remembered  that  his  grand-mother's  name  had  never 
been  mentioned,  and  whether  dead  or  alive  he  did  not  know. 
But  from  the  anguish  of  his  grand-father,  he  was  satisfied 
that  the  secret  of  his  grand-mother's  death  was  purposely 
kept  from  him.  Had  his  grand-father  added  to  his  other 
crimes  that  of  murder  ?  Had  he  killed  the  grand-mother  of 
his  Amy  ?  If  so,  he  would  denounce  him  and  leave  England 
at  once.  Captain  Davis  and  the  Lieutenant  were  speechless. 
•Frost  eyed  the  old  man  with  more  than  ordinary  interest, 
and  Walter  did  not  know  what  to  say.  Presently  the  faint- 
ing man  revived. 

Come  here,  boy,  and  sit  close  by  my  side.  Let  me  tell  you 
all,  and  then  let  me  die.  The  Amy  you  speak  of,  was  my 
wife — your  grand-mother.  She  favored  the  marriage  of 
your  father  to  Amelia  Powers.  I  forbid  it,  and  when  I  heard 
that  they  had  defied  me  and  set  at  nought  my  counsel,  I  be- 
came outraged  and  lost  my  reason.  I  wrote  to  your  father, 


160 

forbidding  him  ever  again  to  darken  my  door.  Fool! — brute  I 
was,  but  I  did  it.  My  wife  interfered,  and  in  my  rage,  I  so 
far  forgot  myself  as  to  strike  her,  and  order  her  to  leave  and 
follow  her  disgraced  children.  Not  thinking,  knowing  cl- 
earing for  the  consequences,  I  went  to  my  room,  and  with 
brandy,  drowned  my  passion  and  eased  my  conscience.  In 
the  morning  my  reason  returned.  I  saw  my  mistake,  and  at 
once  decided  to  apologize  to  my  wife  and  send  for  my  child- 
ren to  return.  I  sent  for  my  wife,  but  the  answer  came  back 
that  she  could  not  be  found.  On  examination  it  was  found 
that  her  wardrobe,  jewels  and  money  were  missing.  On  the 
table  she  had  left  a  note  : 

"  Farewell,  Walter,  farewell  until  you  forgive  your  child- 
ren. Farewe'l.  I  can  sleep  more  sweetly  on  the  bottom  of 
the  Thames  than  I  can  on  a  pillow  of  down  in  your  castle. 
Farewell." 

My  eyes  were  now  open,  and  I  could  see  the  iniquity  of  the 
great  wrong  I  had  committed.  Remorse  choked  me.  Vis- 
ions of  wife  and  child  haunted  me.  The  demons,  devils  and 
damned  of  hell  pursued  me.  I  fled — I  knew  not  where.  The 
next  five  years  was  a  blank.  When  memory  returned, every- 
thing appeared  strange.  The  doors  were  bolted  and  the 
windows  barred.  I  was  in  a  mad  house. 

On  inquiry,  I  learned  that  during  my  confinement,  but  one 
person  had  visited  me.  But  who  she  was,or  where  she  came 
from,  none  could  tell.  She  called  once  after  my  reason  was 
restored,  and  on  learning  of  that  fact,  said  "  Thank  God  !  " 

and  left. 

\ 
I  immediately  returned  to  my  possessions,    and    instituted 

inquiries  about  my  wife  and  children.  I  learned  that  they 
were  all  drcr.vned  by  a  flood  in  America,  and  that  my  wife 
was  dead. 


161 

Not  so  fast,  old  man  !  ejaculated  Frost  between  the  puffs 
of  his  pipe.  You  heard  what  is  not  true.  Your  wife  was  not 
dcnd. 

Not  dead  ?  exclaimed  his  Lordship  jumping  to  his  feet. 
Not  dead  ?  How  know  you  that  ? 

Now,  old  man,  don't  get  excited.  Just  sit  down  and  let  me 
tell  you  something  you  don't  know.  But  before  I  start  ^on 
this  cruise  I  want  to  be  sure  that  I  have  got  good  bottom  to 
anchor  on  and  the  right  signals  to  hoist  in  case  of  danger, 
and  if  you  can  see  and  know  the  signals,  I  will  weigh  anchor 
and  sail  in.  What  do  you  say  to  that — jerking  a  piece  of 
canvas  from  the  wall.  Can  you  call  that  signal  by  name  ? 

Amy — my  long  lost  Amy  !  he  exclaimed.  Tell  me — oh  tell 
me  does  she  still  live  ? 

Now,  old  man,  I  told  you  I  would  tell  you  something  you 
didn't  know,  but  you  must  deep  quiet.  The  best  ships  will 
drag  anchor  in  a  gale.  So  don't  get  up  a  breeze  until  we  get 
clear  of  the  headland. 

My  good  man,  don't  keep  me  in  suspense.  If  you  know 
anything  of  my  lost  wife,  tell  at  once. 

That  is  just  what  I  am  going  to  do,  but  you  mustn't  hurry 
me.  It's  dangerous  to  get  in  a  great  hurry.  Many  a  ship 
has  been  wrecked  because  some  one  has  got  in  too  great  of  a 
hurry.  In  fact,  my  Lord,  I  think  that  if  you  hadn't 
hurried  things  so  fa?  t  this  meeting  would  not  have  taken 

place  in  my  house. 

• 
Oh,  good  man,  you  torture  me.     Is  she  alive  ? 

Well,  if  you  will  just  keep  still  and  give,  me  time  to  think, 
I  think  I  shall  be  able  to  convince  you.  But  an  old  salt  like 
me,  wants  to  know  that  the  ship  is  well-rigged,  ballasted  and 
manned  before  he  goes  into  a  skirmish,  and  I  think  from 
that  cloud  and  the  fresh  breeze  that  comes  from  that  door, 


that  we  shall  have  a  skirmish,  if  not  a  general  engagement. 
You  know,  my  Lord,  that  it  is  an  old  saying,  that  "  When 
Greek  meets  Greek,  then  comes  the  tug  of  war."  Now  I 
don't  think  thatGreekis  goingtomeet  Greek  here,but  the  way 
that  craft  is  sailing,  I  think  there  will  be  a  collision.  Sliver 
my  timbers,  old  man,  but  you  must  have  had  a  jolly  time  an- 
chored in  that  mad  house  for  five  years.  But  it  may  be  a  re- 
lief to  know  that  during  that  time  the  craft  you  deserted  was 
safely  anchored  here.  It  is  a  short  yarn  and  quickly  told. 

Let  me  see.  I  say,  wife.  It  was  twenty-five  years  ago  to- 
night that  you  heard  something  fall  on  the  stoop,  and  on 
opening  the  door  and  looking  out,  saw  a  well-dressed  woman 
lying  there.  And  now,  old  man,  I  want  to  say  here  and  now 
that  sailors  and  their  wives  have  hearts,  and  as  long  as  there 
i>  a  cent  in  the  locker  or  a  crust  in  the  cubboard,  they  will 
share  it  with  the  poor.  So  you  see,  Mary  saw  this  lady  lay- 
ing there  and  she  called  : 

Jack,  she  called,  come  and  lend  a  hand  to  tow  this  cast- 
away into  port. 

And  then  Mary  and  I,  lubber,lifted  with  all  our  might  and 
main  until  we  landed  her  in  the  after  cabin,  and  stowed  her 
away  in  the  lower  bunk.  She  appeared  to' be  a  well-built, 
clean-cut  craft,  about  thirty  years  off  the  stocks.  Her  eyes 
kept  coiitinuall)'  rolling,  but  her  voice  was  silent.  We  sup- 
posed that  she  was  a  woman  of  the  street— some  poor,  unfor- 
tunate creature,  who  had  no  home  to  go  to.  My  wife 
said  : 

I  don't  care,  Jack,  who  she  is,  or  what  she  is.  We  will 
take  care  of  her  till,morning. 

She  was  now  lying  on  her  beam  ends,  and  it  looked  as  if 
she  would  remain  docked  for  some  time.  But  presently,  her 
sails  began  to  nutter,  and  in  a  short  time  she  righted.  She 
requested  the  privilege  of  remaining  with  us  for  a  short 


time  and  promised  to  pay  us.  She  then  informed  us  who 
she  was,  and  related  the  causes  that  drove  her  from  her 
home;  which  are  about  as  his  Lordship  related.  She  and  my 
wife  fell  in  love  with  each  other,  and  from  that  day  to  this 
have  been  fast  friends. 

This  house,  at  that  time,  was  a  rickety  old  thing.  She 
bought  it  for  us  and  put  it  in  its  present  condition.  In  ad- 
dition to  that,  she  purchased  these  costly  pictures.  Besides, 
she  took  charge  of  the  education  of  my  daughter.  She  was 
known  to  the  world  as  Mrs.  Winter.  When  she  went  abroad 
she  was  disguised.  It  was  she  that  frequently  called  to  see 
you  at  mad  house.  She  is  still  alive,  and  under  this  roof. 
Mary,  open  the  door. 

The  door  leading  to  the  adjoining  room  opened,  and  there 
stood  Lady  Wallace. 

My  wife  !  My  long  lost  Amy  !  exclaimed  Lord  Wallace, 
passionately  throwing  his  arms  around  her. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  scene  that  this  meet- 
ing and  reconciliation  produced.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  he 
pressed  her  to  his  bosom  and  prayed  for  her  forgiveness. 

Walter  had  been  deeply  interested  in  the  narrative  related 
by  Jack  Frost.  Before  him  stood  his  and  Amy's  grand- 
mother encircled  within  the  arms  of  his  grand-father.  Tears 
of  joy  ran  down  her  cheeks,  and  her  bosom  swelled  with 
emotion. 

God  is  good  !  she  exclaimed.  Husband  and  child  restored 
to  me  in  a  day.  Come  to  my  arms,  boy  you  are  the  picture 
of  your  mother. 

Walter  embraced  his  grand-mother,  but  was  too  full  of 
emotion  to  speak. 

Friends,  said  Captain  Davis,  let  us  return  to  the  object  of 
this  meeting.  Does  Walter  return  to  America  with  me,  or 
will  he  remain  with  you  ? 


164 

I  have  already  answered  and  decided  that  question,  re- 
plied Walter.  Although  we  have  found  the  Amy  my  grand- 
father thought  I  alluded  to  still  there  is  another  Amy,the 
daughter  of  Thomas  and  Mary  Powers. 

Is  she  living?  asked  Lady  Wallace. 

I  do  not  positively  know,  replied  Walter,  but  I  think  so. 

He  then  gave  the  reason  why  he  thought  she  was  alive, 
and  concluded  by  stating  that  he  intended  to  return  to 
America  and  prosecute  his  search  until  he  was  stasified. 

To  this  Lord  and  Lady  Wallace  consented.  The  reconcil- 
iation was  complete. 

It  was  arranged  that  Jack  Frost's  wife  and  daughter  should 
accompany  Lady  Wallace  to  her  old  home  and  remain  with 
her  until  Jack  returned  from  his  next  voyage  to  America. 

We  will  pass  over  the  incidents  attending  the  funeral  of 
Admiral  Powers,  by  simply  saying  that  he  was  buried  ac- 
cording to  his  rank  in  the  Navy,  and  followed  to  his  grave 
amid  the  belching  of  cannon  and  the  tramp  of  citizens. 

Both  Lord  and  Lady  Wallace  tried  to  induce  Walter  to 
enter  London  society,  but  he  utterly  refused.  He  even  re- 
fused to  change  his  sailor  suit  for  a  citizen's  dress. 

After  making  arrangements  with  his  lawyer  to  look  after 
his  interest  in  his  grand-father  Powers'  estate,  he  and  Cora 
made  a  short  journey  to  France  and  Scotland,  and  returned 
a  few  days  before  the  Reindeer  was  to  sail. 

There  had  been  many  surmises  as  to  what  was  contained 
in  the  package  handed  by  Admiral  Powers  to  Captain  Davis, 
with  directions  that  it  should  not  not  be  opened  until  the 
morning  of  the  sailing  of  the  Reindeer. 

The  morning  for  the  sailing  of  the  ship  had  arrived,  and 
the  Reindeer  presented  a  beautiful  appearance,  being  neatly 
dresssed  with  flags. 


165 

The  men  formed  in  little  parties  on  deck,  as  the  parting 
between  husband  and  wife,  and  parents  and  children  was 
about  to  take  place,  among  which  was  Jack  Frost,  wife  and 
daughter.  In  the  cabin  was  the  Captain,  Cora  and  Lord  and 
Lady  Wallace.  The  time  for  the  opening  of  the  myster- 
terious  package  had  arrived.  Captain  Davis  was  about  to 
break  the  seal,  when  he  discoved  that  Walter  was  not  pres- 
ent. 

Where  is  Walter  ?  he  asked.  He  has  an  interest  in  the 
contents  of  this  package,  and  should  be  present  when  it  is 
read.  Lieutenant,  please  call  him  to  the  cabin. 

The  Lieutenant  found  him  with  Tom  Jones,  Jack  Frost 
and  wife. 

The  Captain  requests  your  company  in  the  cabin.  They 
are  about  to  break  the  seal  of  the  package  delivered  to  the 
Captain  by  your  grand-father  Powers. 

Walter  reluctantly  obeyed  the  summons,  for  he  had  resol- 
ved on  his  return  trip  to  mess  with  his  friends  Tom  and 
Jack. 

The  seal  was  removed  and  the  package  opened.  Captain 
Davis  read  the  first,  which  directed  the  Bank  of  England  to 
pay  to  Walter  Wallace  ^1,000.  The  Captain  then  read 
the  second  paper  and  handed  it  to  WTalter,  saying  : 

This  was  the  last  official  act  of  your  grand-father. 

Walter  took  the  paper,  read  it  carefully  and  then  re- 
marked : 

I  am  not  worthy  of  this  at  present,  Captain.  Please  take 
it,  and  when  I  am  able  to  perform  the  duties  of  that  office,  I 
will  accept  it,  and  not  before. 

What  is  it?  asked  th§  Lieutenant    and    Cora    in  the  same 


166 

It  is  his  appointment  as  Second  Lieutenant  in  the  English 
Navy,  and  assigned  to  this  ship,  and  he  is  qualified  to  enter 
upon  his  duties  at  once,  replied  Captain  Davis. 

The  whole  party  then  congratulated  him  upon  his  appoint- 
ment, and  urged  him  to  accept.  But  it  was  not  until  his 
friends  Tom  and  Jack  put  in  their  oar  that  he  would  con- 
sent, and  then  it  was  only  conditionally. 

I  accept  this  office  for  the  present,  but  I  shall  resign  it  if  it 
in  any  way  interferes  with  my  plans  in  searching  for  the  ab- 
sent one  in  America. 

I  do  not  ask,  neither  do  I  consent  that  you  should  abandon 
the  search  you  have  in  view  for  that  lost  child,  for  some- 
thing tells  me  that  my  lost  child  will  be  found  at  the  same 
time. 

Bang  !  went  the  gun  to  give  warning  to  those  on  shore  to 
come  on  board,  and  to  those  on  board  that  the  time  for  part- 
inc  had  come — when  wives  must  bid  their  husbands  good- 
bye, and  lovers  renew  their  troth. 

The  parting  between  Walter  and  his  grand -father  was  of 
the  most  affectionate  character.  He  conducted  his  grand- 
mother to  the  boat  and  passed  her  to  Lieutenant  Powers. 
Lord  Wallace  followed,  but.  before  entering  the  boat  said  : 

I  regret,  my  boy,  that  we  must  part  on  so  short  acquain- 
tance, yet  I  appreciate  and  approve  of  the  motive  that  actu- 
ates you,  and  hope  that  you  will  be  successful.  And  in  case 
you  succeed  in  rinding  the  girl,  you  can  assure  her  that  she 
will  be  welcomed  and  received  as  my  grand-daughter.  I 
doubt  not  but  that  your  search  will  be  thorough,  and  to  that 
end,  I  ask  you  to  receive  this  package,  and  use  the  contents 
to  further  the  enterprise?,  And  now  good  bye  for  the  pres- 
ent. 


167 

Depend  upon  it,  said  Walter.  The  whole  country  between 
the  Hudson  and  Delaware  Rivers  shall  be  searched,  and 
Amy  shall  be  found  if  alive.  But  I  must  detain  you  no  long- 
er. The  vessel  is  moving. 

As  they  sailed  down  the  Thames  toward  the  Atlantic, 
Walter's  mind  naturally  reverted  to  the  contrast  between  his 
past  and  present  condition.  But  a  few  weeks  before,  he  was 
a  penniless  boy.  Now  he  was  the  acknowledged  son  and 
heir  of  two  of  the  first  families  of  the  nation.  Then  he  was 
an  invited  guest  on  board  of  the  Reindeer,  dependent  upon 
the  bounty  of  Captain  Davis.  Now  he  was  a  Lieutenant  in 
His  Majesty's  Service.  Then  there  were  grave  doubts 
whether  he  would  be  received  by  his  kindred.  Now  the  re- 
lationship between  them  was  established.  Now  he  had  the 
opportunity  and  means  to  prosecute  his  search  for  Amy. 
Yet,  he  thought,  all  this  work  and  wealth  without  her  is  a 
bubble,  that  floats  for  a  moment  and  then  disappears.  But  I 
forget  the  package  handed  me.  I  wonder  what  it  con- 
tains. 

He  breaks  the  seal,  and  within  finds  a  ^"1,000  note  on 
the  Bank  of  England,  and  on  a  piece  of  paper  is  written  : 

"  Please  accept  this  token  of  my  regard.  From  your 
grand-father.  I  feared  that  your  manly  pride  and  self-inde- 
pendence would  incite  you  to  reject  the  gift,  which  would 
have  pained  me.  Therefore  I  hand  it  to  you  at  the  last  mo- 
ment. Take  it  and  use  it  as  you  think  best." 

We  will  pass  over  the  incidents  of  the  voyage  between  Eu- 
rope and  America,  as  nothing  unusual  occurred.  They  had 
a  quick  and  prosperous  voyage,  and  entered  Phiadelphia  har- 
bor just  as  the  sun  was  setting,  about  the  middle  of  Octo- 
ber. 

By  the  time  the  ship  was  safely  moored,  it  was  surround- 
,  ded  by  small  boats  containing  the  friends  of  those  on  board, 


168 

"among  which  were  stirveycr  Webb  and  wife.  Captain  Davis 
met  them  at  the  gang-way  and  conducted  them  to  the  cab- 
in. After  the  ordinary  civilities  were  over,  Webb  informed 
them  that  after  the  departure  of  the  Reindeer  he  had  the 
bodies  of 'the  dead  mutineers  buried  in  the  potters  field,  and 
that  Sambo  was  buried  in  his  own  lot. 

But  where  is  my  boy  Walter?  he  inquired. 

On  duty,  replied  the  Captain,  but  he  will  soon  be  here. 

At  this  instant  Walter  made  his  appearance  and  saluted 
both  Webb  and  his  wife  with  an  affectionate  kiss. 

Father,  he  said,  more  than  a  father — how  much  I  owe 
you.  How  can  I  ever  repay  you  ? 

Repay  me  ?  replied  Webb.  I  am  more  than  repaid  now  to 
see  you  dressed  in  a  Lieutenant's  uniform,  and  performing 
the  duties  of  that  office.  This  gives  me  a  satisfaction  that 
money  could  not  purchase. 

Webb  was  then  informed  of  the  incidents  that  had  taken 
place  on  the  voyage  to  England,  Walter's  injury  and  uncon- 
sciousness,his  return  to  reason, his  acknowledgement  by  both 
of  his  grand-parents,  and  that  the  object  of  his  return  to 
America  was  to  search  for  Amy. 

And  where  do  you  intend  searching?  asked  Webb. 

The  entire  country  between  the  Hudson  and  Delaware 
Rivers,  replied  Walter. 

That  is  where  I  found  you,  and  where  you  took  your  first 
lessons  in  surveying.  Had  Amy  been  in  those  parts,  we 
would  have  heard  of  her.  I  am  afraid,  boy,  that  this  will  be 
a  fruitless  search.  What  reason  have  you  for  believing  that 
she  is  in  those  parts  ? 

Instinct — not  reason,  tells  me  that  she  is  there.  I  have 
seen  her  on  the  mountain  top  surrounded  with  hawks,  but 
protected  by  an  aged  and  intelligent  Indian, 


169 

At  this  remark,  Webb's  countenance  brightened.  It  was 
evident  that  old  memories  had  awakened  in  his  imag- 
ination. He  was  again  surveying  the  Minisink  country  and 
taking  the  grand  scenery  of  the  Delaware  Valley,  and  with 
confidence  replied  : 

The  mountain,  the  rocks  and  the  hawks  that  you  saw  in 
your  delirium,  I  have  seen  with  my  natural  eyes.  It  is  in 
the  Minisink  country,  and  the  rocks  that  you  describe  are  on 
the  north  side  of  the  Delaware  River,  three  miles  west  of 
Machackamack,  and  near  the  camp  of  the  Cahoonshees, 
and  the  Indian  you  describe  can  be  no  other  than  Cahoon- 
shee  himseif. 

Cahoonshee !  exclaimed  Captain  Davis  and  wife  in  the 
same  breath.  Why  that  is  the  name  of  the  Indian  that  sail- 
ed from  London  to  America  with  me  over  twenty  years  ago. 

He  promised  to  make  inquiries  about  my  lost  boy.  We 
landed  him  at  the  Palisades  at  sun-rise  one  morning,  and 
that  is  the  last  I  have  ever  heard  of  him. 

I  knew  him  well,  replied  Webb.  He  was  the  last  of  his 
tribe  and  lived  on  the  Steneykill.  The  Cahoonshees  were  a 
small  tribe,  and  lived  on  the  mountains  between  the  Never- 
sink  and  Delaware  Rivers. 

And  it  is  my  determination  to  search  that  part  of  the  Del- 
aware Valley  forJAmy,  replied  Walter. 

Then  remain  on  board  of  the  Reindeer  until  you  arrive  at 
Kingston  Point,  on  the  Hudson  River,  and  com- 
mence the  ^  search  from  there.  It  will  be  but 
four  days  travel  to  Hawk's  Nest  Mountains,  and 
then  you  are  in  the  country  of  the  Cahoonshees. 

The  Reindeer  remained  at  New  York  a  few  days,  and  then 
proceeded  up  the  Hudson  to  Kingston  Point. 

This  was  a  sandy  point  of  land  extending  out  in  the  river, 
gouth  of  the  point  were  extensive  mud  flats  through  which. 


170 

flowed  the  Wallkill  River,  of  which  the  Rosendale  is  a  trib- 
utary. The  head  waters  of  the  Rosendale  was  the  north-east 
end  of  the  Mamakating1  Valley,  and  about  twenty-five  miles 
from  the  Delaware  River.  About  one  mile  north  of  Kings- 
ton Point,  was  situated  a  rocky  island  about  half-a-mile  long 
and  four  hundred  feet  wide,  and  about  a  thousand  feet  from 
the  west  shore  of  the  river,  which  at  this  point  is  about 
one  mile  wide. 

Opposite  Kingston  Point,  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson, 
was  a  small  settlement  called  Becktown.  In  after  years  a 
man  by  the  name  of  Rhine  married  a  Beck.  Then  the  place 
was  called  Rhinebeck,  which  name  it  still  retains. 

About  one  mile  from  the  shore  was  a  large  stone  house  in 
which  Judge  Hasbrook  lived. 

The  island  above  described  was  occupied  by  a  man  called 
Shell.  He  was  far  advanced  in  years,  and  lived  alone  on 
the  island  and  held  but  liltle  intercourse  with  the  '  outside 
world.  Why  he  lived  a  hermit's  life  was  unknown.  He  lived 
by  fishing  and  hunting  His  garden  furnished  him  with 
vegetables,  and  drift-wood  with  fuel. 

A  few  days  after  the  Reindeer  anchored,  Judge  Hasbrook 
gave  a  ball  in  honor  of  the  officers,  and  the  principal  part  of 
the  inhabitants  were  invited.  Walter  was  anxious  to  start  on 
his  contemplated  journey,as  Tom  Jones  and  Jack  Frost  were 
to  accompany  him.  He  felt  no  interest  in  balls  and  parties, 
and  would  gladly  have  excused  himself,  but  through  the  so- 
licitation of  Mrs.  Davis  and  Cora,  he  consented  to  defer  the 
journey  until  after  the  ball. 

A  large  party  had  assembled  at  the  Judge's  house,  which 
included  all  the  beaux  and  belles  for  miles  around,  jn  which 
all  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves  except  Walter.  His  interests 
were  toward  the  setting"  sun  and  the  land  of  the 


171 

shees.  He  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  take  a  part  in  the 
dance,  but  remained  a  silent  spectator.  Cora  tried  to  rouse 
him  to  at  least  allow  himself  to  be  introduced  to  the  ladies 
present.  Failing  in  this,  she  took  him  by  the  arm  and 
said  : 

Come,  Walter,  this  will  never  do  for  a  Lieutenant  in  the 
English  Navy.  Come  and  take  a  walk  with  me.  Let  us  go 
to  the  arbor  and  pick  some  grapes. 

Certainly,  he  replied.  That  will  be  in  keeping  with  my 
thoughts,  and  by  the  moonlight  they  walked  toward  the 
grape  arbor. 

On  the  way  they  met  Tom  and  Jack  loaded  down  with  the 
luscious  fruit. 

There,  said  Walter.     Sit  down  and  pick  and  eat.      That    is 

easier    than    to  climb  after 
them. 

I    prefer     climbing,     and 
top  fruit  is   the  best,  laugh- 
ingly replied    Cora,  and   off  she 
skipped  like  a  young  fawn. 

Cora,  said  Walter,  some  lurk- 
ing Indian  might  run  off  with 
you,  and  then  you  would  be 
cured  of  your  romance. 

Not  a  bit  of  it,  she  replied.  I 
wish  that  one  of  the  red-skins 
would  steal  me.  That  would  be 
romantic  indeed.  And  to  think 

COKAATTHEGBAPEARBOK.  that  you  and  the  whole  ship's 
company  would  be  hunting  after  me.  That  would  be  what 
the  sailors  call  a  stern  chase,  and  then  she  disappeared  be- 
hind the  arbor. 


172 

Instantly  a  blanket  is  thrown  over  her  head,  and  she  is 
carried,  she  knows  not  where. 

She  supposed  it  was  a  trick  got  up  by  Walter  to  scare  her, 
and  to  carry  out  the  joke,  submitted  willingly,  and  it  was 
not  until  she  found  herself  laid  in  the  bottom  of  a  canoe  that 
she  awoke  to  a  sense  of  danger.  She  now  realized  that  she 
was  in  a  boat  of  some  kind,  sailing  on  the  water. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Bee  Hunters— Drake  and  Rolla  on  the  Trail— Call  of  the 
Tree  Toad— Answer  of  the  Blue  Jay. 

We  left  Drake  and  the  two  Quicks  on  the  Steneykill,  re- 
turning with  honey.  When  they  discovered  moccasin  tracks 
and  heard  Rolla's  peculiar  bark,  they  became  alarmed  for 
the  safety  of  those  at  the  cabin,  and  hurried  forward.  Rolla 
rushed  ahead  and  commenced  an  uncommon  continued 
howl. 

That  is  a  new  howl,  said  Drake. 

And  has  a  new  meaning,  replied  Cahoonshee. 

They  hurried  forward  and  Rolla  continued  to  howl. 

When  they  approached  they  saw  Rolla  stretched  out  at  full 
length  on  the  ground,  and  the  cat  Walt  lay  dead  by  his  side 
with  an  arrow  through  its  head. 

The  Great  Spirit  have  mercy  on  those  at  the  cabin,  ex- 
claim Cahoonshee. 

The  cabin  was  soon  reached,  and  there  sat  Betsy  tied  to 
her  chair.  She  was  soon  released  and  the  parties  informed 
of  the  capture  of  Amy  by  the  Stockbridge  Indians. 

Drake  was  much  affected,  and  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 


Fear  not,  we  will  save  the  girl,  said  Cahoonshee.  Yoti 
three  take  the  dog  and  go  in  search  of  the  trail.  Follow  it 
as  long  as  it  goes  west,  but  if  it  turns  east,  send  one  of  your 
number  to  me. 

Drake  and  the  Quicks  shouldered  their  guns  and  started, 
Rolla  taking  the  lead,  and  soon  found  the  trail,  which  went 
nearly  due  west,  toward  the  Mongaup. 

It  would  seem  that  the  Indians  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
their  trail,  which  for  a  long  time  puzzled  the  pursuing  party. 
The  sun  was  now  down,  and  the  darkness  of  the  night  over- 
Shadowed  the  forest.  Yet,  Rolla  with  perfect  confidence  fol^ 
lowed  the  trail  until  they  came  to  Mongaup  River. 

Here  the  hunters  found  themselves  baffled.  They  went 
two  miles  up  on  the  east  side  of  the  River.  Then  crossing, 
searched  back  to  the  point  where  they  commenced,  but  fail- 
ed to  find  any  sign  of  the  trail. 

Then  they  resolved  to  return  to  the  cabin,  fill  their  knap- 
sacks and  renew  the  search  in  the  morning. 

After  the  hunters  left,  Cahoonshee  went  out  and  shot 
some  rabbits,  and  with  their  brains  preserved  the  skin  of  the 
cat  Walt. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  the  hunters  returned.  They 
informed  Cahoonshee  of  the  finding  of  the  trail  and  loosing 
it  again  at  the  Mongaup. 

You  lost  time  in  searching  down-stream,  he  said.  They 
went  up  the  River  until  they  found  a  small  stream, then  they 
followed  that  to  its  source.  But  somewhere  between  where 
they  reached  the  River  and  Mongaup  Falls,  they  had  to 
leave  the  River  and  pass  over  land.  They  may  have  gone 
up  the  Bushkill  as  far  as  the  Falls.  But  there  they  would  be 
compelled  to  leave  the  stream.  Fill  your  knapsacks,  and  at 
sun-rise  start  for  the  mouth  of  the  Bushkill.  Follow  it  up 


to  the  Falls.     From  there  go  to  my  cabin  on   the   Steneykillj 
where  I  will  meet  you. 

As  soon  as  the  day  broke,  Drake,  Tom  and  Rolla  started, 
and  were  at  the  mouth  of  the  Bushkill  at  sun-rise.  Rolla 
seemed  to  understand  the  object  of  the  search,  and  applied 
his  nose  to  every  stone  that  lay  above  the  water.  He  had 
not  been  gone  long  before  he  gave  three  loud  barks. 

He  has  the  trail  !  Drake  fairly  screamed. 

But  Rolla  was  soon  out  of  sight  and  was  not  heard  again 
for  some  moments.  Then  he  was  heard  again  and  contin- 
ued barking  until  Drake  and  Tom  came  up  to  him  at  the 
foot  of  the  falls. 

It  was  evident  that  they  had  found  the  trail.  There  was 
the  remains  of  their  camp  fire,  strewed  with  fish  bones. 

What  is  that  ?  said  Tom,  pointing  to  a  small  rock  that 
leaned  against  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

That,  replied  Drake,  is  Amy's  writing  : 

"  Gone  to  the  cave  from  whence  you  came.     Amy," 

That  is  plain.  Let  us  go  up  the  Falls  and  over  the  ridge 
to  Cahoonshee's  cabin. 

They  f«>und  Cahoonshee  and  the  elder  Quick  at  the  cabin, 
and  a  warm  breakfast  prepared  for  them. 

Cahoonshee  was  informed  of  the  finding  of  the  trail  and 
the  course  it  took. 

There  is  but  one  more  thing  to  learn,  he  said.  They  will 
cross  the  river  at  Kingston.  From  here  to  Kingston  there 
are  three  trails.  The  first  is  the  old  Kingston  trail.  But 
they  will  not  take  that,  as  there  are  white  settlers  every  few 
miles,  and  they  would  not  take  their  captive  that  way.  The 
other  trails  are  farther  west  and  are  seldom  traveled.  It 
will  take  them  two  days  longer  than  if  they  went  by  the 


175 

Kingston  trail.  We  must  try  and  get  to  the  Hudson  ahead 
of  them.  The  whites  are  thickly  settled  there,  and  we  can 
get  all  the  assistance  we  want. 

Now,  Drake,  you,  Tom  and  Rolla  take  their  trail  and  fol- 
low it  until  you  can  determine  which  rout  they  have  taken 
Then  go  direct  to  the  Yah  House,  and  Quick  and  I  will  meet 
you  there. 

The  boys  were  soon  on  the  trail  and  followed  it  across 
Handy  Hill,  then  across  the  Neversink,then  north,until  they 
struck  the  western  trail  leading  to  Kingston. 

At  this  point  they  left  the  trail  and  took  a  north-easterly 
course  to  the  Yah  House,  where  they  arrived  late  in  the  eve- 
ning and  found  Quick  and  Cahoonshee  there. 

It  was  then  determined  to  travel  direct  on  the  Kingston 
trzil  and  head  the  Indians  off  before  they  reached  the  river. 
If  they  failed  in  this,  to  push  forward  to  the  cave. 

We  shall  not  stop  to  describe  the  incidents  that  happened 
to  the  travelers  from  the  Yah  House  to  Kingston.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  they  traveled  as  fast  as  Cahoonshee's  health 
would  permit.  When  within  ten  miles  of  the  Hudson  River, 
they  struck  north-west,  and  after  going  about  twomiles,Rol- 
la  gave  the  usual  signal  that  he  had  discovered  where  Amy 
had  walked. 

They  followed  the  trail  about  four  miles  to  a  stream  that 
emptied  into  the  Hudson,  and  here  the  trail  was  lost.  The 
party  divided  and  followed  down  both  sides  of  the  stream 
until  they  reached  the  river,  but  no  trail  was  found. 

Cunning  dogs  !  exclaimed  Cahoonshee.  They  have  waded 
up  or  down  stream.  But  they  will  have  to  come  to  the 
shore  somewhere.  They  can't  wade  across  the  river.  They 
will  have  to  steal  a  canoe  or  build  a  raft.  They  have  prob- 
ably gone  down  stream.  Let  us  follow  them. 


176 

Th?  sun  was  just  setting,  and  dark  clouds  threatened  a 
storm  from  the  south-west.  A  vivid  flash  of  lightning  lit  up 
the  forest  and  river.  Rolla  sprang  into  the  air  and  gave  the 
usual  three  barks. 

The  dog  either  sees  or  smells  something,  said  Cahoonshee. 
Look  on  the  river  when  the  next  flash  comes. 

Then  came  a  gust  of  wind  that  bent  the  trees  nearly  to 
the  ground,  which  was  followed  by  continuous  lightning,and 
which  lit  up  the  river  from  shore  to  shore.  About  a  thous- 
and feet  from  the  shore  was  plainly  to  be  seen  the  canoe 
containing  Amy  and  her  captors. 

Our  chase  is  in  vain,  said  Cahoonshee.  The  canoe  cannot 
float  long  in  that  stream.  It  will  drive  them  on  the  rocks  at 
the  head  of  the  island.  Let  us  build  a  raft  and  renew  the 
search  as  soon  as  the  storm  is  over. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  Storm— Buried  in  the  River— Old  Shell  to  the  Rescue. 
Which  is  Which  and  What  is  What. 


The  Indians  had  scarcely  left  the  shore  when  the  storm 
broke  upon  them  in  all  its  fury.  The  canoe  had  capacity  for 
but  six  in  still  water.  With  its  present  cargo,  it  sank  to  the 
gunwale. 

The  thunder  roared,  the  lightning  flashed,  and  the  waves 
ran  mountain  high.  Earth,  air  and  water  seemed  to  be  stri- 
ving for  the  mastery.  The  little  canoe  was  tossed  about  on 
the  surging  foam  like  an  egg  shell  in  a  boiling  caldron.  The 
occupants  realized  their  danger,  yet  remained  cool  and  col- 
lected and  patiently  awaited  their  doom,  At  last  the  Chief 
•aid  i 


ITT 

We  must  leave  the  canoe.  Perhaps  with  none  on  board  but 
the  women  it  will  float. 

There  was  a  small  rope  attached  to  one  end  of  the  canoe 
held  by  a  toggle.  He  caught  this  and  jumped  into  the  river, 
followed  by  the  other  four. 

Amy  saw  at  a  glance  that  she  had  it  in  her  power  to  free 
herself  and  escape  from  the  Indians.  What  could  be  easier 
than  to  pull  the  toggle  and  cast  the  Indians  adrift.  Then 
her  conscience  checked  her. 

That  would  drown  them,  and  that  would  be  murder.  But 
life,"  liberty  and  self-preservation  soon  overruled  conscience 
She  pulled  the  toggle  and  the  Indians  were  adrift. 

Springing  to  her  feet,  she  applied  the  paddle,  going, where 
she  knew  not — Beared  not — if  she  could  get  away  from  the 
savages. 

Once,  and  once  only,  did  she  look  back,  and  by  the  light- 
ning's flash  saw  them  struggling  in  the  rolling  swell. 

Shell  was  sitting  in  his  cabin  door,  smoking  his  pipe,  and 
listening  to  the  roar  of  the  elements,  when  a  flash  of  light- 
ning revealed  to  his  view  a  canoe  making  its  way  to  the  rift 
o:  rocks.  At  the  second  glance,  he  saw  a  person  manfully 
working  a  paddle. 

Zounds  !  That  chap,  whoever  he  is,  has  got  good  stuff  in 
him.  But  I  guess  he  don't  know  the  points  of  the  compass. 
That  course  will  carry  him  on  the  rocks.  He  will  be  drown- 
ed, and  the  canoe  dashed  to  pieces.  It  is  but  little  Old  Shell 
can  do,  but  I  will  do  that  little. 

Taking  a  brand  from  the  fire,  he  lit  a  pile  of  pine  knots 
that  was  piled  on  the  beach.  Suddenly  the  wind  turned  to 
the  north  east,  and  this  made  the  situation  of  the  canoe  still 
more  dangerous. 

On — on  it  came — first  on  the  crest  of  a  wave,  then  hid  from 
sight  in  the  bottom  of  the  swell. 


178 

Pull  to  the  west !  Pull  to  the  west  !  cried  Old  Shell.  But 
the  sound  of  his  voice  was  drowned  by  the  incessant  slash  of 
the  water.  Nearer  and  nearer  the  fatal  rock  is  approached. 
The  canoe  is  raised  on  the  top  of  the  crest,  and  as  the  water 
recedes,  it  strikes  amidships  and  is  broken  into  fragments. 
The  next  wave  drives  the  wreck  and  occupants  ashore. 
Shell  stood  ready,  and  caught  them  before  the  undertow 
could  carry  them  back.  Taking  one  under  each  arm.,  he  car- 
ried them  into  his  cabin  and  laid  them  down  before  the 
fire. 

The  girls  were  wet  but  not  seriously  injured,  and  were 
soon  on  their  feet. 

The  reader  must  remember  that,  although  Amy  knew  that 
another  person  had  been  added  to  their  number,  she  had  not 
seen  Cora  until  her  face  was  revealed  by  the  light  of  the 
fire. 

The  first  glance  amazed  her.  She  saw  in  her  the  likeness 
of  herself  as  plainly  as  if  she  had  looked  in  a  glass. 

Cora  was  equally  astonished,  and  for  the  time  doubted  her 
own  identity. 

Neither  of  them  seemed  to  be  inclined  to  speak,  or  rather 
each  of  them  was  waiting  for  the  other  to  say  something. 
This  surprised  the  old  man,  who  had  relit  his  pipe,  and  was 
puffing  away  in  the  corner. 

He  commenced  : 

I  say,  gals,  I  suppose  that  this  is  new  quarters  for  3rou. 
But,  sailors  say  "any  port  in  a  storm."  But  I  guess  this  a 
safer  place  than  the  one  you  were  being  tossed  about  on  out 
there  on  the  rocks.  But  you  are  safe  now,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing I  will  take  you  on  shore.  It  was  lucky  for  you  that  I 
was  at  home,  and  I  did  not  get  home  any  too  soon.  If  I  had 
stayed  at  the  Judge's  any  longer  I  .could  not  have  got 
home  before  morning. 


179 

What  Judge's  do  you  mean,  my  good  man  ?  said  Cora. 

I  mean  Judge  Hasbrook.  They  had  a  dance  there  last 
night,  and  the  Admiral's  daughter  got  lost,  strayed  or  sto- 
len. All  the  people  were  looking  for  her,  but  she  could  not 
be  found.  Men  on  horses  were  sent  out  on  every  road.  The 
marines  were  ordered  from  the  ship  to  scour  the  woods,  but 
it  was  no  go.  They  could  not  find  her.  They  said  that  she 
was  a  good,  but  dare-devil  of  a  girl,  and  there  was  no  telling 
what  she  might  do.  Some  of  the  scouts  returned  and  reported 
that  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  four  men,  with  a 
black  dog  was  seen  about  two  miles  from  the  Judge's  house, 
and  they  feared  the  girl  had  been  stolen  by  them. 

Amy  could  scarcely  control  her  feelings  on  hearing  this, 
but  did  not  think  it  wise  to  state  who  she  thought  the  party 
were. 

The  girls  were  now  standing  in  front  of  the  fire  drying 
their  clothes. 

Girls,  said  Old  Shell,  you  smoke  like  musk  rats  drying  in 
the  sun.  I  think  you  had  better  change  your  clothes. 

I  have  no  others,  said  Amy. 

Nor  I,  rejoined  Cora. 

Be  easy  as  two  that,  replied  the  old  man.  I  have  them, 
and  think  they  will  fit  exactly.  I  have  not  always  lived 
alone.  I  once  had  daughters  that  were  as  smooth-faced  as 
you  are,  and  as  pretty  as  you  appear.  I  have  their  clothes 
here,  (pulling  out  a  large  chest.)  See  if  these  clothes  will 
fit. 

The  girls,  both  from  interest  and  curiosity,  stepped  toward 
the  trunk. 

Here,  said  the  old  man  lifting  a  garment  out  of  the  trunk. 
Here  is  a  shir — shir — what  do  you  call  it  ?  We11,it  is  a  shir— 
•hirt, 


The  girls  blushed,  and  the  old  man  noticed  it. 

Here,girls,  you  go  through  the  trunk.  It  is  so  long  since  I 
have  had  anything  to  do  with  women's-ware,  that  I  have  for- 
gotten their  names  and  how  they  are  worn.  There  are  two 
red  flannel  dresses  that  look  exactly  alike.  Put  them  on, and 
while  you  are  fixing  up,  \  will  go  out  and  look  at  the 
river. 

The  old  man  walked,  to  the  head  of  the  island.  The  storm 
had  ceased,  and  the  moon  was  shining  brightly.  The  waves 
continued  to  roll  over  the  rift  and  dash  against  the  rocks. 
Something  appeared  on  the  rift  that  had  the  appearance  of 
being  a  human  being.  On  examination,  there  appeared  to 
be  several  of  them  all  huddled  in  one  mass.  No  signs  of  life 
were  visable,  and  the  waves  continued  to  pound  their  bodies 
against  the  rocks. 

When  the  old  man  returned,  he  found  the  girls  dressed  in 
red  flannel  suits,  white  aprons,  blue  stockings  and  gaudy 
hats,  trimmed  with  white  and  yellow  feathers. 

By  jingo,  he  exclaimed.  If  you  two  girls  wasn't  run  in 
the  same  mould, then  I  am  no  judge  of  human  nature.  Gosh 
darn  it  !  If  you  don't  look  so  much  alike  that  I  can't  tell 
which  from  which. 

You  are  in  error  there,  my  good  man.  We  are  no  relation. 
I  never  saw  this  girl  until  I  saw  her  here,  remarked  Cora. 

How  is  that  you  both  came  on  shore  in  the  same  boat  and 
at  the  same  time  ? 

That  is  so.     Yet  I  never  saw  her  before. 

• 

Where  do  you  belong,  and  how  did  you  get, in  her  com- 
pany. This  is  a  mysterious  mystery  that  I  can't  unriddle. 
Hang  me  if  I  don't  believe  that  you  are  two  witches. 

Oh  no,  my  good  man,  we  are  not  witches.  I  belong  on 
board  of  the  Reindeer.  I  am  the  Admiral's  daughter — the 


181 

dare-devil  of  a  girl  you    described.      The  one    the    marines 
were  scouring  the  country  to  find.     Yes,  I  am  Cora  Powers. 

Powers  !  exclaimed  Amy  excitedly,  but  said  nothing  more, 
yet  thought  much. 

The  old  man  remained  silent  a  few  moments,  then  said  : 

How  came  you  in  the  canoe  ? 

I  was  carried  there  by  some  one.  I  thought  it  was  Tom 
and  Jack,  supposing  that  the  Lieutenant  had  told  them  to 
throw  a  blanket  over  me  and  carry  me  off.  For  that  reason 
I  made  no  resistance,  and  lay  in  his  arms  quietly  as  a  babe 
on  its  mothers  breast.  In  fact,  I  enjoyed  it,  and  when  I  lay 
in  the  boat,  I  thought  that  I  would  be  taken  on  board  of  the 
Reindeer,  and  rather  enjoyed  it,  to  think  how  surprised  they 
would  be  when  they  learned  that  I  could  not  be  scared. 
When  I  was  doused  in  the  water,!  took  it  as  a  kind  of  a  sailor 
baptism,  and  I  don't  know  yet  what  to  make  of  it. 

I  don't  think,  said  the  old  man,  that  your  friends  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  your  departure. 

And  if  they  didn't,  who  did  ?  asked  Cora. 

The  Indians,  replied  Amy. 

What  ?  Do  you  mean  that  I  was  carried  off  in  the  arms  of 
an  Indian  and  laid  in  the  canoe  ? 

I  do,  said  Amy.     I  saw  it  with  my  own  eyes. 

Cora  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  then  said  : 

Then  I  have  been  stolen  by  the  Indians  and  didn't  know 
it.  There  is  no  romance  about  that,  and  I  am  the  one  who 
has  been  fooled.  I  have  a  good  notion  to  faint.  I  would  if 
there  was  some  one  here  to  prevent  my  falling. 

Young  woman,  this  is  no  light  affair.  If  they  stole  you 
they  meant  to  take  your  scalp  or  make  your  friends  pay  well 
for  your  ransom.  But  what  became  of  them  ?  Are  they 
prowling  about  now. 


182 

Amy  turned  her  face  away  to  hide  her  confusion,  but  the 
old  man  noticed  it. 

I  think,  he  said,  that  this  girl  knows  more  about  the  In- 
dians than  she  is  willing  to  tell.  Tell  us,  girl,  where  you 
last  saw  them. 

Amy  remain  s'lent,  dreading  to  tell  where  she  last  saw 
them,  knowing  that  it  would  lead  to  other  questions. 

Speak,  as  you  value  your  life,  said  the  old  man.  The  storm 
is  over,  and  they  will  soon  be  down  upon  us. 

Amy  replied  : 

There  were  five  of  them,  and  they  belonged  to  the  Stock- 
bridge  tribe. 

Slockbridge  Indians  !  exclaimed  Shell.  Then  we  must 
expect  no  mercy,  but  must  prepare  to  defend  ourselves,  ris- 
ing and  seizing  his  gun  that  stood  in  the  corner. 

This  will  stop  one  or  more  of  them. 

Have  you  another  gun  ?  inquired  Amy.  If  so,  I  will  stop 
another. 

Here,  said  the  old  man  opening  a  closet,  is  half  a  dozen 
guns,  and  I  will  load  them  all. 

Let  me  load  them,  said  Amy. 

Do  you  know  how  ? 

Amy  took  up  the  guns  and  loaded  them  in  half  the  time 
the  old  man  could. 

There.  I  have  loaded  them  all,  and  if  they  come,  I  can 
shoot  them. 

Are  you  the  daughter  of  a  hunter?  asked  old  Shell. 

I  am  the  daughter  of  no  one,  but  I  know  how  to  load  and 
shoot  a  gun. 

But  you  have  not  told  us  how  you  came  to  be  in  company 
with  the  Indians, 


Tell  iis  girl,  let  us  know  the  worst,  and  then  we  can  act  for 
the  best. 

Amy  replied  : 

Those  Indians  stole  me  from  my  home  on  the  Shinglekill, 
and  were  taking  me  to  Stockbridge,  and  just  as  we  were 
starting  to  cross  the  river,  they  stole  this  girl.  A  storm 
arose,  and  the  Indians  jumped  into  the  river  to  lighten  the 
c.uioe,  and  that  is  the  last  I  saw  of  them. 

If  they  got  ashore  anywhere,  it  must  have  been  on  this  is- 
land. I.  will  take  my  gun  and  go  out  on  the  rift  and  look. 

And  I  will  take  another  and  go  with  yon,  said  Amy. 

And  I  will  take  the  rest  and  shoot  them  all  at  once,  said 
Cora.  » 

All  parties  being  armed  and  equipped  for  the  emergency, 
they  marched  for  the  spot.  It  was  low  water,  and  the  rocks 
were  bare  for  several  hundred  feet  above  the  island. 

You  wait  here,  said  the  old  man,  and  I  will  climb  out  on 
the  rocks.  . 

I  see  the  Indians ! — I  see  them  !  exclaimed  Cora  ex- 
citedly. 

Where  ? 

There  !  pointing. 

The  old  man  looked,  and  saw  the  same  objects  that  he  saw 
waen  he  was  out  before,  and  raised  his  gun. 

Don't  shoot  !  They  are  all  dead  now.  The  life  has  been 
pounded  out  of  them  on  the  rocks. 

Don't  you  believe  that,  girl.  They  are  only  playing  pos- 
sum, and  will  go  for  your  scalp  at  the  first  opportunity. 
Some  of  them  may  be  on  the  island  now. 

I  see  five,and  there  were  but  five.  Let  us  go  a  little  closer 
said  Amy,  starting,  and  followed  by  the  old  man. 


1S4 

At  every  step  the  forms  of  the  dusky  Indians  became  more 
visable. 

Careful,  girl,  careful.  We  have  a  treacherous  foe  to  deal 
with. 

We  have  the  dead,  and  the  dead  only  to  deal  with,  replied 
Amy.  They  have  gone  to  the  Indian's  last  hunting  ground. 

The  rock  was  reached,  and  there  lay  the  bloated  bodies  of 
the  five  Indians.  They  had  caught  hold  of  each  other's  hair 
and  around  the  waist. 

Drowning  men  catch  at  straws,  said  the  old  man. 

They  had  taken  hold  of  each  other  for  protection,  and  all 
had  drowned  in  each  other's  embrace. 

But  where  did  this  rope  come  from  that  is  wound  around 
them  ?  asked  Shell. 

Amy  kept  silent.  She  knew  too  well  where  the  rope  came 
from. 

Well  girls,  it  is  rather  early  in  the  morning  for  a  funeral, 
but  I  think  we  had  better  bury  them  now. 

Where  ?  asked  Cora. 

In  a  sailor's  grave  he  said.  And  taking  his  knife,  cut  the 
tangled  rope  loose,  and  one  by  one,  he  threw  them  into  the 
River  to  be  food  for  the  fishes. 

The  parties  .now  returned  to  the  house. 

Stay  here,  girls,  and  keep  a  good  watch,  and  I  will  go 
toward  the  lower  end  of  the  island.  Some  of  them  may  have 
landed  lower  down.  The  dog  would  swim  ashore. 

What  dog  ?  asked  Amy. 

The  dog  that  was  seen  with  the  Indian  that  stole  this  girl, 
pointing  toward  Cora. 

Amy  felt  etnbarressed  for  some  moments,  and  then  said  ; 


185 

My  good  man,  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know  about  the  Indians. 
I  have  told  you  that  they  stole  me  at  the  Shinglekill,  in  the 
country  of  the  Cahoonshees.  I  had  friends  who  followed 
me,  and  with  them  was  my  faithful  dog  Rolla.  It  was  that 
party  that  was  seen  by  the  party  that  went  in  search  of  this 
girl,  and  they  are  all  dead.  To  lighten  the  canoe,  they  took 
hold  of  the  rope  that  you  saw  about  their  bodies,and  jumped 
overboard.  I  pulled  the  toggle  and  cast  them  adrift.  You 
know  the  rest. 

Brave  girl,  said  the  old  man  seizing  Amy's  hand.  There 
are  five  less  of  the  murderous  dogs.  I  wish  that  the  whole 
tribe  had  been  tied  to  that  rope.  Girls,  I  have  not  always 
been  what  I  now  appear  to  be.  I  once  had  a  wife  and  a  hap- 
py home.  The  first  year  of  our  marriage,  she  became  the 
mother  of  twins.  They  grew  up  to  be  young  ladies.  On  my 
return  home  one  night,  I  found  my  house  burned,  and  my 
wife  and  daughters  dead  and  scalped.  The  Stockbridge.  In- 
dians did  it.  I  could  not  live  in  that  desolate  home  where 
so  many  things  reminded  me  of  former  days.  I  removed  to 
this  island.  The  clothes  you  have  on  and  the  clothes  you  see 
in  the  trunk  were  once  worn  by  those  I  loved.  But  the  In- 
dians robbed  me  of  all.  Stealing  was  their  business.  Years 
ago  they  stole  an  infant  on  this  very  island  almost  from  its 
mother's  arms,  and  from  that  day  to  this,  Captain  Davis  has 
mourned  the  loss  of  his  child.  Rewards  have  been  offered 
and  search  made  among  all  the  tribes,  but  no  child  found. 
It  probably  died  soon  after  it  was  stolen,  as  it  had  a  mark  on 
its  breast  that  would  have  led  to  its  discovery  if  living. 

What  was  the  mark  ?  asked  Cora  and  Amy  at  the  same 
time. 

A  ship,  and  the  letters  C.  D.  on  the  top.  and  E.  N.  on  the 
bottom.  If  you  belong  on  board  of  the  Reindeer,you  should 
have  heard,  them  speak  of  their  child. 


I  have,  repeatedly,  repled  Cora.  And  to-morrow  we  in- 
tended to  start  for  the  Delaware  Valley  in  search  of  him. 
Lieutenant  Wallace  was  to  be  in  charge  of  the  searching 
party. 

Amy  turned  pale  and  staggered  back.  That  name  brought 
to  her  recollection  the  days  of  her  childhood.  Her  father, 
mother,  and  her  home  on  the  Callicoon. 

Both  Cora  and  the  old  man  noticed  her  emotions,  and  the 
struggle  she  was  making  to  suppress  them. 

You  are  a  brave  girl,  said  old  Shell,  but  you  havn't  got  the 
timber  in  you  to  stand  the  strain  that  you  have  been  subjec- 
ted to.  You  had  better  go  to  bed  and  get  some  rest,  and  in 
the  morning  I  will  take  you  on  board  of  the  Reindeer. 
Right  in  there  is  a  go^d  feather  bed  made  by  the  girls  whose 
dress  you  have  on.  Go  in  there,  and  I  will  watch  over  you 
as  I  would  over  them. 

The  girls  retired,  and  Cora  was  soon  in  a  deep  sleep.  Not 
so  with  Amy.  Her  thoughts  were  on  Walter  Wallace.  It 
was  plain  to  her  that  the  child  mentioned  by  the  old  man 
was  Charles  Drake.  That  many  a  time  she  had  looked  at 
the  mark  on  his  breast,  and  it  was  just  as  the  old  man  had 
described  it.  But  who  was  this  Lieutenant  Wallace  that 
was  going  to  the  Delaware  Valley  to  look  for  Drake?  | 

Is  this  my  Walter  ?  Oh,  wish  I  knew  his  first  name.  This 
girl  at  my  side  can  tell  me.  I  will  ask  her. 

Miss  Powers  !     Miss  Powers!     Miss  Powers. 
A-h-a-h — What  do  you  want  ? 

Will  you  tell  me  the  first  name  of  Lieutenant  Wallace  who 
is  going  to  look  for  the  lost  child  ! 

Oh  you  go  to  sleep.  \Vhat  have  you  got  to  do  about 
that? 


18? 

I  only  wanted  to  know  Mr.  Wallace's  given  name.  Tell 
me  that,  and  then  you  can  go  to  sleep  again. 

And  if  I  refuse,     What  then  ? 

Then  you  will  be  very  unlady-like,  said  Amy. 

This  stung  Cora,  and  she  replied  : 

His  name  is  Walter  Wallace,  and  he  came  from  a  place 
they  call  Callicoon. 

Amy  sprang  from  the  bed  and  ran  into  the  old  man's  room 
followed  by  Cora. 

Look  out  for  that  girl  !  She  is  mad — crazy — insane  !  She 
is  as  mad  as  a  march  hare  !  She  wants  me  to  tell  her  the 
name  of  every-body  on  the  ship  !  Look  at  her  eyes — see  her 
b;>som  swell !  I  tell  you  she  has  lost  her  reason. 

Little  bird,  said  the  old  man,  placing  his  hand  on  her  head 
and  looking  into  her  eyes,  tell  me  what  causes  this  emo- 
tion ? 

She  is  mad  !  replied  Cora. 

Lady,  I  am  not  mad.  Amy  Powers  is  not  mad,  but  knows 
all,  and  in  time  will  explain  all. 

Amy  Powers  !  exclaimed  Cora.  Is  that  your  name  ?  Was 
your  father's  name  Thomas?  and  your  Mother's  name  Mary  ? 
and  did  you  live  on  the  Callicoon  ? 

So  she  continued  to  ask  questions,  net  stopping  to  give 
Amy  an  opportunity. to  answer. 

Bang  ! 

What  is  that  ?  asked  Amy. 

That  is  the  sun-rise  gun  on  the  Reindeer,  replied  the-  old 
inan.  * 


188 
CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Hunt— The  Fatal  Shot. 


On  the  discovary  that  Cora  could  not  be  found,  it  was  sur- 
mised that  she  was  playing  one  of  her  pranks,and  she  would 
soon  leave  her  hiding  place  and  return.  But  as  the  night  ad- 
vanced, it  was  learned  that  four  men  and  a  dog  had  been 
seen  in  the  neighborhood.  This  raised  the  suspicion  that 
she  had  been  kidnapped,  and  a  general  search  was  ordered. 
Men  on  horse-back  were  sent  to  examine  every  road  and 
house  for  twenty  miles  around,  and  a  file  of  marines  were 
ordered  to  search  the  woods.  But  at  sun-rise  the  next  morn- 
ing, nothing  had  been  learned  of  her. 

Gaptain  Davis  ordered  a  strict  lookout  from  the  mast  head 
for  any  parties  that  might  be  seen  crossing  the  river,  and  a 
boat  manned  and  in  readiness  to  pursue  any  craft  that  might 
appear.- 

When  Drake  and  his  party  saw  the  Indians  disappear  in 
the  darkness  of  the  night, they  supposed  that  the  storm  would 
drive  them  back.  In  the  mentime,they  were  at  work  secur- 
ing material  to  build  a  float  on  which  they  could  cross  the 
river.  But  the  storm  seriously  interfered  with  their  work, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  sun  rose  the  next  morning  that  they 
were  prepared  to  cross  the  river. 

The  river  at  this  point  was  about  one  mile  across,and  they 
started  to  cross  one  mile  above  the  island.  The  wind  was  in 
the  east,  and  the  float  made  slow  progress.  The  strong  ebb 
tide  carried  them  down  stream  so  that  they  barely  cleared 
the  rift,  and  placed  them  nearly  east  of  the  island.  Rolla 
sniffed  the  wind  from  the  island  and  goes  to  the  rear  of  the 
float  and  whines. 

The  clog  winds  something  on  the  island;  said   Cahoonshee, 


189 

But  he  hasn't  given  the  Amy  bark,  replied  Drake. 

Bang  !  went  a  gun  on  board  of  the  Reindeer,  and  a  cannon 
ball  came  skipping  over  the  water,  passing  directly  ahead  of 
the  float. 

What  does  that  mean  ?  inquired  Drake. 

That  means  stop,  replied  Cahoonshee. 

Rolla  gave  three  barks,  sprang  into  the  water,  and  swam 
toward  the  island. 

;  That  is  the  Amy  bark,  exclaimed  Drake.      Let   us    paddle 
after  him. 

Put  down  the  paddle,  boy,  or  they  will  blow  us  out  of  the 
water. 

Bang  ' 

The  ball  is  seen  ricocheting  on  the  water  in  a  direct  line 
with  the  float,  and  struck  the  end  of  one  of  the  forward  logs, 
and  knocked  off  a  sliver  that  struck  Cahoonshee  and  carried 
him  overboard.  Quick  caught  him  by  the  hair  and  pulled 
him  back. 

Don't  move  a  paddle,  he  said.  If  you  do,  the  third  shot 
will  tear  us  to  pieces.  But  just  keep  still  and  we  are  safe. 
See,  they  are  coming  after  us,and  then  they  will  tell  us  what 
they  want.  Perhaps  they  will  take  us  on  board  of  the 
ship. 

By  this  time  the  ship's  boat  had  nearly  reached  the  float. 
Walter  stood  in  the  bow  with  his  sword  drawn.  Lieutenant 
Powers  was  at  the  helm, and  between  them  stood  a  company  of 
armed  marines. 

Keep  quiet,  said  Cahoonshee,     I  will  answer  all   questions. 

Who  commands  this  float?  inquired  Lieutenant  Wallace. 

I  do,  replied  Cahoonshee.     What  is  your  wish  ? 

We  have  orders  to  bring.you  on  board  of  the  ship. 


By  whose  orders  ? 

By  the  orders  of  Captain  Davis. 

Captain  Davis  shall  be  obeyed,  said  Cahoonshee, 

Then  hand  in  your  guns  and  consider  yourselves  prisoners 
for  the  present. 

The  guns  and  other  articles  were  placed  in  the  boat.  Ca- 
hoonshee stepped  on  board  and  was  conducted  to  the  stern. 
The  Quicks  were  seated  at  mid-ship,  and  Drake  at  the 
bow. 

I  think  that  we  have  met  before,  said  Caooonshee  to  Lieu- 
tenant Powers. 

I  think  not,  replied  Powers, 

You  was  a  mere  boy  then — the  son  of  Admiral  Powers. 

Was  you  acquainted  with  my  father  ! 

Before  the  question  could  be  answered  Cahoonshee  faint- 
ed. Drake  instantly  sprang  to  his  assistance,  but  was  re- 
strained by  the  sailors. 

Gentlemen, said  Drake,!  do  not  know  for  what  crime  you 
have  shot  this  old  man, but  I  beg  of  you  to  let  me  take  care  of 
him.  See — he  is  dying.  Let  me  hold  his  head. 

This  appeal  touched  the  sympathies  of  the  officers,  and 
Drake  was  permitted  to  go  to  his  assistance. 

What  caused  this  wound  on  his  head  ?  asked  the  Lieuten- 
ant. 

The  shot  from  the  ship,  replied  Drake. 

They  were  now  along  side  of  the  ship,  which  was  some- 
thing new  to  Drake.  He  was  still  holding  Cahoonshee's 
head,who  gave  some  signs  of  returning  consciousness.  Still 
the  blood  continued  to  flow  from  his  wound. 

He  spoke  : 

Boy,  tell  the  Captain  that  I  am  Cahoonshee.  Show  him 
the  mark  on  your  breast.  My  time  has  come. 


191 

Evidently  he  intended  to  say  something  more,  but  dizzi- 
ness prevented. 

The  ship  is  reached  and  Cahoonshee  is  carried  on  deck, 
and  then  to  the  doctor's  room.  Drake  and  the  Quicks  were 
taken  before  the  Captain  and  questioned. 

Where  is  the  girl  and  dog  that  was  in  your  company  ? 

There  has  been  no  girl  in  our  compan)'.  The  dog  left 
when  you  shot  the  old  man,  and  is  now  on  yonder  island. 

Have  you  any  knoweledge,  young  man,  of  a  lady  in  the 
hands  of  the  Indians  ? 

Yes  sir.  For  five  days  we  have  been  in  pursuit  of  a  party 
of  Indians  who  hold  a  young  lady  a  captive. 

Have  you  any  knowledge  of  a  young  lady  that  was  taken 
from  her  friends  last  night  ? 

No,  sir. 

Who  have  you  been  pursuing? 

A  girl  that  was  captured  by  the  Indians  in  the  Delaware 
Valley. 

How  came  your  dog  to  leave  you  ? 

I  think  he  scented  the  girl  on  the  island  and  went  to  res- 
cue her.  Perhaps  the  same  party  that  stole  the  Delaware 
girl  captured  the  girl  you  refer  to.  If  so,  no  time  should  be 
lost.  We  should  go  to  the  island  immediately. 

Then  proceed  at  once,  raid  the  Captain. 

The  boat  was  manned,  and  proceeded  toward  the  island. 

Soon  after  the  boat  left,  the  doctor  went  to  the  the  cabin, 
where  he  found  Captain  Davis  and  wife. 

Captain,  said  the  doctor,  the  old  Indian  that  was  brought 
on  board  is  anxious  to  see  you,  and  requested  me  to  ask  you 
to  come  to  his  quarters. 

I  have  other  duties  to  perform  at  present,  he  said, 


192 

The  old  Indian  said  that  it  was  to  your  interest  to  see  him 
— that  his  name  was  Cahoonshee. 

Cahoonshee  !  exclaimed  Captain  Davis  and  his  wife  at  the 
same  moment. 

He  is  the  Indian  that  promised  to  hunt  for  our  lost 
child. 

This  seemed  to  have  changed  the  Captain's  mind,  and  he 
soon  was  at  the  side  of  the  dying  Indian. 

Cahoonshee  was  apparently  asleep — at  least  he  did  not  no- 
tice the  Captain,  who  looked  on  his  pale  face,  and  then  said 
to  the  doctor  : 

Is  the  wound  on  his  head  fatal  ? 

The  wound  on  his  head,  replied  the  doctor,  is  of  HI  tie  con- 
sequence. His  ailment  is  old  age.  The  machine  is  worn 
out,  and  the  loss  of  blood  has  weakened  him. 

Doctor,  I  think  that  Indian  knows  of  my  lost  child.  Do 
for  him  all  you  can. 

Cahoonshee  heard  the  last  remark,  and  turned  his  head. 
The  doctor  and  Davis  were  soon  at  his  side. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Davis  entered  the  room.  A  mother's 
feelings  could  no  longer  be  suppressed,  and  taking  the  dy- 
ing Indian  by  the  hand,  said  : 

Does  my  child  live  ? 

Yes,  he  faintly  answered. 

Where  is  he  ?   quickly  asked  the  Captain. 

Cahoonshee  made  signs  to  be  raised  up  in  bed. 

Where  are  my  friends  ? — those  that  were  on  the  float  with 
me  ?  Let  me  see  them. 

An  officer  was  directed  to  bring  Tom  and  his  father. 

Cahoonshee  continued  to  revive,  and  on  the  arrival  of  his 
friends  felt  sufficiently  strong  to  talk.  He  beckoned  the 
Captain  to  take  his  hand  and  said  : 


IftI 

These  men  are  friends  of  your  child.  This  one  is  his 
brother,  and  this  one  has  been  to  him  a  father.  They  will 
tell  you  all,  and  then  he  fell  back  on  his  bed  exhausted. 

The  Quicks  were  taken  to  the  cabin,  where  they  related 
the  history  of  Charles  Drake,  from  the  time  he  was  captured 
by  the  elder  Quick  on  the  upper  waters  of  the  Mongaup,  to 
the  present  time,  and  that  when  the  boat  returned  from  the 
island  they  would  see  the  their  lost  child. 

I  have  already  seen  him  !  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davis  excitedly. 
It  was  he  that  you  questioned  about  Cora  ! 

Nothing  but  the  mark  on  his  breast  will  convince  me,  said 
the  Captain. 

Then,  replied  Quick,  you  will  be  convinced.  The  mark  is 
on  there— anchor,  ship,  with  the  letters  C.  D.  and  E.  N.  Is 
that  your  boy,  Captain  ? 

That  is  the  way  he  was  marked  when  he  was  stolen  from 
his  mother  on  the  island  where  they  have  now  gone. 

At  this  juncture  and  officer  entered  the  cabin  and  mform- 
the  Captain  that  the  boat  was  approaching  with  two  ladies 
on  board. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Mutual    Mistakes. 


It  was  difficult  for  old  Shell  to  pacify  Amy  after  Cora 
had  mentioned  the  name  of  Walter  Wallace.  She  was  de- 
termined to  go  on  board  of.  the  Reind.eer  in  search  of  her 
lover  if  she  had  to  swim  from  the  island  to  the  ship. 

I  have  often  swam  farther  than  that  through  the  falls  of 
the  Delaware,  she  said. 


194 

At  last  she  reluctantly  consented  to  wait  until  morning, 
and  went  to  sleep  in  her  chair.  Cora  retired  to  bed  again, 
and  the  old  man  prepared  breakfast,  which  consisted  of 
smoked  ham,  dried  herring,  pan  cakes  and  birch  bark  tea. 

They  had  not  finished  eating,  when  Bang  !  went  a  gun  on 
board  of  the  Reindeer.  In  an  instant  they  were  all  out  of 
the  cabin. 

The  ship  first  attracted  their  attention.  Then  they  saw 
an  armed  boat  rowing  up  the  river.  Bang  !  went  the  gun 
again,  when  they  looked  up  the  river  and  saw  the  float,  with 
people  on  it. 

I  see,  said  Shell.  They  are  shooting  at  a  black  bear. 
Don't  you  see  ?  He  is  making  direct  fjr  the  island.  I  will 
get  my  gun  and  stop  his  bearship. 

Amy  was  herself  again,  and  watched  the  bear  with  great 
interest  until  the  old  man  returned  with  his  gun. 

You  stay  here  girls,  and  I  will  go  to  the  beach  and  set- 
tle him. 

Amy  followed  him  unperceived.  The  old  man  took  acurate 
aim,  when  suddenly  Amy  struck  up  his  gun,  and  the  ball 
went  over  the  bear's  head. 

Girl,  what  do  you  mean  !  he  exclaimed. 

I  mean  to  save  the  life  of  my  best  friend.  That  is  no  bear, 
it  is  my  dog  Rolla,  and  the  party  on  the  float  are  my 
friends. 

By  this  time  Rolla  had  reached  the  shore  and  embraced 
Amy  with  a  kind  of  fatherly  affection.  The  parties  watched 
the  float,  and  saw  the  people  on  it  get  in  the  boat  and  row  to- 
ward the  the  ship. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  appearance  of  Amy  and 
Cora  was  so  much  alike  that  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish 
between  them.  But  now  they  were  dressed  exactly  alike, 


195 

and  a  casual  observer  could  not  tell  one  from  the  other.  This 
will  account  for  the  mistakes  and  confusion  about  to  be  re- 
lated. 

When  they  saw  the  boat  coming  toward  the  island,  the  old 
man  suggested  that' they  had  better  walk  to  the  lower  end  of 
the  island,  as  the  boat  could  safely  land  at  that  point. 

At  the  time  of  the  landing,  Amy  was  standing  on  the  east 
side  of  the  island  with  Rolla  by  her  side.  Walter  being  ig- 
norant of  the  real  facts,  took  her  for  Cora.  Acting  under 
the  impulse  of  the  moment,  he  sprang  out  of  the  boat,  and 
swiftly  ran  to  her,  and  folding  her  in  his  arms,  said  : 

Cora !  Oh,  Cora — you  are  safe — you  are  safe  !  I  feared  that 
we  should  not  see  you  again  !  and  he  passionately  kissed 
her. 

But  the  girl  did  not  reciprocate,  but  tried  to  free  herself 
from  his  embrace. 

You  are  mistaken,  young  man.     My  name  is  not  Cora. 

Walter  stared  into  her  eyes  for  a  moment. 

You  say  that  your  name  is  not  Cora  ?  You  have  lost  your- 
self. Your  reason,  is  dethroned.  You  don't  know  your 
nephew.  If  you  are  not  Cora,  who  are  you  ?  releasing 
her. 

They  continued  to  look  into  each  others'  eyes  for  a  few 
moments,  when  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  beamed  in  Amy's 
countenance.  Her  bosom  heaved,  and  instantly  she  threw 
her  arms  around  him,  and  passionately  exclaimed  : 

I  am  Amy  Powers — your  long  lost  Amy  Walter  !  Oh, 
Walter  ! 

She  could  say  no  more,  and  willingly  remained  in  his 
arms. 

Walter  looked  down  into  her  sweet  and  agitated  face  a 
moment,  and  a  thousand  memories  flashed  across  his  mind 
In  his  arms  lay  the  mature  woman,  In  her  he  saw  the  girl 


i&e 

of  his  childhood — his  long  lost  Amy.  And  here,  locked  in 
n  each  other's  embrace,  we  must  leave  them,  and  turn  our 
attention  to  other  parties. 

Drake  jumped  ashore,  and  saw,  as  he  supposed,  Amy, 
standing  on  the  west  side  of  the  island.  He  ran  to  her  and 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  smothered  her  with  kisses,  ex- 
claiming : 

Sister  ?  dear  sister  !  You  are  saved.  I  was  afraid  that 
you  would  be  either  killed  or  drowned. 

See  here  young  man,  said  Cora.  I  guess  that  you  are  a 
persistent  lover,  and  have  learned  the  art  of  hugging  and 
kissing  to  perfection — not  that  I  have  any  particular  fault  to 
find — in  fact,  I  rather  like  it,  at  least  I  would  if  it  was  meant 
for  me.  But  it  is  meant  for  that  other  girl.  I  am  not  Amy, 
my  name  is  Cora, 

Oh,  Amy,  Drake  continued.  Don't  you  know  me  ?  Don't 
you  know  your  brother  ?  Look  at  me  Amy. 

Oh,  young  man,  I  see  you  plain  enough,  and  rather  like 
your  looks.  But  I  am  not  your  sister.  I  don't  know  you.  I 
never  saw  you  before. 

Oh,  Amy,  this  is  terrible.  The  Indians  have  turned  your 
head,  deprived  you  of  reason,  and  caused  you  to  forget  yovir 
best  friends.  But  you  will  know  the  mark  on  my  breast.tear- 
ing  his  shirt  open  and  bringing  to  view  the  anchor  and  ship. 

Cora  looked  at  his  breast  and  the  tell-tale  letters  on  it. 
She  saw  at  a  glance  and  understood  who  the  young  man  was 
that  so  firmly  held  her.  She  knew  that  he  was  the  long  lost 
child  of  Captain  Davis.  At  the  moment  she  was  emharessed 
and  faltered  as  to  the  course  she  should  pursue.  Then  sud- 
denly throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck,  said  : 

I  wish  I  was  your  sister — no,  I  don't  mean  that.  What  do 
I  want  to  be  your  sister  for  ?  I  wish — well  no  matter  what  I 


197 

wish.  Now,  young  man,  sit  down  by  me,  and  I  will  tell  you 
something  you  don't  know.  First,  I  am  not  Amy.  She  is 
over  there  in  the  arms  of  her  old  lover,  Walter  Wallace. 

Drake  sprang  to  his  feet. 

Don't  disturb  them,  she  said,  for  they  have  not  met  for  a 
great  many  years  and  have  a  great  deal  to  talk  about.  In 
the  next  place,  my  name  is  Cora  Powers,  and  I  am  the  aunt 
of  the  girl  you  call  Amy.  In  the  next  place,  you  are  Charles 
Davis,  and  was  stolen  many  years  ago  from  your  mother  on 
this  island  near  the  spot  where  we  now  sit,  and  your  father 
and  mother  are  now  on  board  of  the  Reindeer. 

Drake  heard  this  announcement  with  amazement,  scarcely 
believing  his  eyes  or  ears.  Then  he  remembered  that  Ca- 
hoonshee  had  said  that  he  should  inquire  for  his  father  on 
board  of  the  English  war  vessel.  He  was  satisfied  that  the 
girl  by  his  side  was  not  Amy,  not  from  any  difference  in  her 
looks,  but  from  her  voice  and  actions. 

Lady,  said  Drake,  let  us  go  and  see  Amy  and  her  lover. 

As  soon  as  they  appeared,  Rolla  bounded  toward  them, 
jumping  and  barking  with  joy. 

Amy  saw  Drake  coming,  and  advanced  to  meet  him.  Their 
meeting  was  of  such  an  affectionate  character  that  Walter 
was  at  a  loss  to  understand  it.  Wallace  seized  Cora's  hand 
and  congratulated  her  on  her  escape  from  the  Indians.  Amy 
introduced  Drake  to  Walter,  saying  ; 

He  has  always  been  a  good  brother  to  me. 

Cora  drew  Drake  aside  and  said  : 

Mr.  Davis,  for  now  that  is  your  name,  I  want  to  ask  you 
one  straight-forward  question. 

Certainly,  lady,  proceed. 

Did  you  love  Amy  as  a  sister  only  ? 

As  a  sister  only,  he  replied, 


198 

In  Charles  Davis,  Cora  had  found  her  hero — one  that  was 
bold,  just  and  generous,  with  just  enough  savage  life  in  his 
exterior  to  interest  a  girl  of  Cora's  mind.  The  smothering 
kisses  and  manly  embraces  he  had  bestowed  on  her,al though 
meant  for  another,  had  aroused  within  her  a  passion  differ- 
ent from  any  she  had  before  experienced.  She  was  the  pet 
child  of  a  wealthy  family,  gay,  giddy  and  trifling,  and  in  one 
sense  a  flirt.  Accustomed  to  have  her  own  way,  yet  noble 
and  high  minded.  Her  hand  had  been  sought  by  the  noble 
of  her  London  home,  but  she  had  repulsed  them  all.  Why  ? 
Because  in  them  she  did  not  see  her  hero — her  ideal  of  a 
man.  In  Charles  Davis,  although  dressed  in  torn  and  tat- 
tered clothes,  although  his  face  was  sun-burned,  and  had  the 
appearance  of  bronze,  although  his  home  had  been  in  the 
forest,  and  his  companions  savages,  yet  something  within 
her  heart  told  her  that  she  loved  Charles  Davis,  that  he  had 
aroused  within  her  bosom  a  passion  heretofore  dormant, and, 
on  the  impulse  of  the  moment  intended  to  tell  him  the  state 
of  her  mind  and  declare  her  love.  It  was  for  this  purpose 
she  led  him  aside  and  asked  him  if  he  loved  Amy  only  as  a 
sister.  But  his  answer  being  so  frank,  "  as  a  sister  only," 
disconcerted  her.  How  unlike  the  fops  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  meet  in  London.  It  then  flashed  across  her  mind 
that  Davis  was  no  longer  the  half  savage,  the  half  civilized 
youth  of  the  Delaware  Valley,but  the  son  of  Captain  Charles 
Davis,  a  man  of  influence  and  power  in  the  English  Navy. 
She  realized  that  to  talk  and  act  love  that  was  prompted  by 
genuine  affection  was  quite  a  different  thing  from  the  every 
day  flirtation  in  which  there  was  but  little  sense  and  no  heart. 
She. therefore  concluded  to  await  the  result  of  the  meeting 
that  was  about  to  take  place  on  board  of  the  Reindeer. 

When  it  was  announced  that  a  boat  containing'  two    ladies 
was  approaching,  all  hands  rushed  to  the  deck.      That   Cora 


J99 

was  one  of  them  there  was  no  doubt.  But  who  could  the 
other  one  be. 

See,  said  Mrs.  Davis  to  her  husband.  Cora  is  sitting  by 
Walter  in  the  bow. 

Then  her  shadow  must  be  reflected  to  the  stern,  said  the 
Captain,  for  that  is  certainly  Cora.  But  who  is  the  young 
man  sitting  by  her  side  ? 

That  is  the  young  man  you  questioned.  That  is  your  and 
my  son,  Captain. 

The  Captain  placed  his  arm  around  his  wife,  and  said  : 

Is  it  possible  that  this  young  man  is  our  son  ? 

The  boat  comes  alongside,and  Walter  assists  Amy  on  deck. 
Immediately  the  Captain  and  his  wife  advanced  to  meet  her, 
supposing  that  it  was  Cera.  Walter  noticed  Amy's  embar- 
essment. 

This  is  not  Cora.     She  will  be  on  board  soon. 
A  moment  later  Cora  came  on  deck,  and    running    to    the 
Captain,  said  : 

I  claim  the  reward. 
What  reward?  the  Captain  asked. 

The  reward  you  offered  for  the  production  of  your  son. 
Here  he  is,  turning  to  where  she  supposed  Drake  stood. 

But  Drake  was  not  there.  Neither  could  he  be  seen  or 
found  on  deck. 

Cora  was  surprised,  and  felt  hurt.  She  supposed  he  stood 
by  her  side,  and  intended  to  have  the  honor  of  introducing 
him  to  his  parents,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

I  saw  a  young  man  in  the  boat  when  you  came  along-side 
said  Mrs.  Davis. 

Yes,  and  it  was  your  son.  He  came  on  deck  with  me,  re- 
plied Cora. 


'The  Captain  was  in  a  maze.  He  had  at' no  time  been  com 
vinced  that  the  person  alluded  to  by  Cahoonsee  was  his  child 
and  this  sudden  disappearance  raised  greater  doubts. 

Lieutenant,  said  the  Captain,  this  is  very  remarkable  that 
the  person  said  to  be  my  son  came  on  board,  but  cannot  be 
found. 

•  Said  to  be  your  son  ?  exclaimed  Walter.     I  have   heard    of 
no  such  person. 

1  have,  replied  Cora,  and  am  the  only  one  on  board  that 
knew  that  fact. 

How  do  you  know  ?  inquired  the  Captain. 

I  saw  the  mark  on  his  breast  that  I  have  so  often  heard 
described.  He  showed  it  to  me  on  the  island. 

The  decks  were  searched,  but  Drake  could  not  be  found, 
and  amid  the  confusion  the  doctor  appeared. 

How  is  your  patient?  a;ked  the  Captain. 

Better.  He  is  sitting  up  conversing  with  the  young  man 
who  was  on  the  float  with  him  when  he  got  hurt. 

That  is  Drake,  said  Cora.  I  will  go  after  him,  and  started 
for  the  doctor's  room. 

Don't  disturb  them  at  present.  The  old  man  realizes  that 
his  end  is  near,  and  wishes  to  have  a  private  talk  with  the 
boy. 

The  parties  then  went  to  the  cabin,  and  Amy  and  Cora  re- 
lated in  part  their  adventures. 

Amy  gave  Drake's  history  from  the  time  she    became    ac- 
quainted with  him,  and  was  describing  her  mother's  funeral 
when  Tom  Jones  and  Jack  Frost  appeared  bearing   Cahoon 
shee  in  their  arms,  followed  by  Drake. 

Instantly  all  voices  are  hushed,  and  a  death-like  silence 
prevailed. 


201 

Here  youth  and  old  age  clasped  hands.  The  old  man  was 
weak  and  trembling,  and  it  was  evident  that  he  was  making 
a  superhuman  effort  to  perform  a  promise  made  many  years 
ago.  Drake  stood  by  his  side  holding  his  hand,  the  very 
picture  of  dispair  as  his  whole  soul  went  out  for  Cahoonshee. 
At  that  moment  he  would  have  forsaken  father  and  mother 

to  prolong  the  life  of  him  that  had  been  his  friend  and  foster- 

• 
father. 

Mrs.  Davis  made  an  attempt  to  go  to  the  side  of  her  child, 
but  was  restrained  by  the  Captain  who  was  doubting  whether 
he  could  believe  his  own  eyes.  Whether  the  youth  that  held 
the  aged  warrior's  hand  was  his  son. 

Cahoonshee  beckoned  Captain  Davis  and  wife  to  approach, 
and  they  advanced. 

Years  ago  I  promised  to  find  and  restore  to  you  your  child. 
Why  I  have  delayed  it  so  long,  your  son  will  explain  at 
some  other  time.  My  sands  of  life  are  nearly  run  out,  and 
my  last  act  will  be. to  present  to  you  your  son.  Examine  the 
mark  and  satisfy  yourselves. 

Drake  bared  his  bosom.  The  Captain  and  wife  in  the 
the  same  breath  exclaimed  : 

Our  child  ! 

Captain,  said  Cahoonshee,  take  this  boy.  He  is  one  of  na- 
ture's noblemen.  It  has  been  the  pride  and  study  of  my 
life  to  leave  behind  me  an  example  of  Indian  training.  I 
think  I  have  fixed  his  character,  moulded  his  mind,  and  edu- 
cated him  in  the  arts  and  sciences  far  beyond  what  he  could 
have  learned  in  the  schools.  Lay  me  down. 

That  night  Drake  stayed  with  his  parents.  •  I  shall  not  at- 
tempt to  describe  the  interview.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the 
Captain  and  wife  were  both  inexpressably  happy  in  the  so- 
ciety of  their  child.  The  Captain  was  surprised  at  the  learn- 


202 

ing  and  intelligence  of  a  boy  that  had   been    reared    in    the 
dark  forest  of  the  Delaware. 

Walter  spent  most  of  the  night  on  deck  with  Amy,  where 
he  related  his  adventures  in  searching  for  her — the  trip  to 
England,  the  finding  of  Lord  Wallace,  and  lastly,  the  dis- 
covery of  iiis  and  her  grand-father. 

Amy,  nestling  on  his  bosom,  exclaimed  : 

Oh,  Walter,  how  happy  I  am.     Will  this  always  last  ? 

Certainly  my  dear.  Nothing  shall  part  us  now.  You  will 
go  with  me  to  England  and  become  queen  of  my  house. 

And  leave  Drake  and  Cahoonshee  ?  she  replied. 

Walter  looked  into  her  sweet  face  as  if  to  divine  her 
thoughts. 

Drake  will  undoubtedly  remain  with  his  father,  ? nd  Ca- 
hoonshee shall  be  taken  care  of. 

By  whom  ?  she  asked. 

Walter  saw  that  these  words  meant  more  than  they  ex- 
pressed, and  drawing  Amy  still  closer  to  him,  said  : 

I  suppose  this  old  man  has  been  a  good  friend  of  yours 
and  you  do  not  like  to  leave  him. 

He  has  been  more  than  a  friend.  He  has  been  a  father,  a 
protector,  an  instructor.  What  little  I  know,  he  taught  me. 
I  wish  to  remain  with  him  to  the  last. 

Your  wish  shall  be  gratified,  said  Walter. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  follow  the  parties  or  relate  their 
conversation  at  this,  their  first  meeting.  And  if  we  made 
the  attempt,  we  would  certainly  fail,  for  the  most  vivid  im- 
agination cannot  describe  the  sensation  of  two  hearts  so 
firmly  united,  that  had  been  so  long  separated.  They  were 
in  fact  "  one  twain,  one  flesh."  Their  hearts  beat  in  unison, 
and  each  of  them  could  truthfully  say  : 


203 

"Mine  is  thine  and  thine  is  mine." 

And  here  in  the  pale  moonlight  of  a  coming  morn,we  must 
leave  the  lovers,  and  turn  our  attention  to  other  charac- 
acters. 

Cora  had,  in  a  sense,  been  left  alone.  The  others  held 
within  their  embrace  the  object  of  their  affection,  but  she 
was  alone  and  lonely.  The  object  of  her  affection  was  sit- 
ting between  his  parents  in  the  cabin,  relating  the  adven- 
tures of  the  past,  and  planning  for  the  future.  The  future 
of  that  man  was  all  the  world  to  her.  With  him  the  future 
would  be  heaven.  Without  him,  misery.  From  her  room 
she  could  hear  distinctly  the  conversation  that  passed  be- 
tween them.  At  last  she  heard  him  say : 

Now  my  dear  parents, you  must  excuse  me.  Duty  calls  me 
to  the  side  of  my  foster-father. 

She  heard  the  good-night  said,  and  the  parting  kiss 
bestowed.  She  knew  that  Drake  was  going  to  see  Cahoon- 
hee.  I  will  be  there  first,  she  thought,  and  started  through 
a  passage  way  that  led  to  the  doctor's  room.  On  opening 
the  door,  she  found  Cahoonshee  quietly  sleeping  and  Tom 
and  Jack  watching  by  his  side. 

My  good  men,  she  said,  I  have  come  to  relieve  you.  Let 
me  watch  by  the  side  of  the  dying  hero. 

Tom  and  Jack  departed,  and  Cora  was  left  alone  with  the 
dying  man.  In  a  few  moments  he  opened  his  eyes  and 
said  : 

Amy,  my  child,  extending  his  hand. 

This  is  not  Amy, she  said.  lam  Cora  Powers, the  daughter 
of  Admiral  Powers. 

Then,  replied  the  old  man,  I  must  be  near  the  Spirit  Land. 
My  eyes  have  failed  me.  Bend  down,  child,  and  let  me  place 
my  hand  on  your  neck. 


204 

The  old  man  drew  his  hand  across  her  neck  below  the 
ear. 

You  are  right,  child.  The  mole  is  not  there.  You  are  not 
Amy.  Where  is  she  ?  and  where  is  Drake  ? 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Drake  appeared.  He 
was  embarassed  at  finding  Cora  there, and  was  at  a  loss  what 
to  say.  But  Cahoonshee  knew  him. 

My  eyes  are  not  mistaken  now.     This  is  my  boy  Drake. 

Yes,  father,  I  have  come  to  stay  with  you. 

Cahoonshee  looked  at  Cora. 

Who  is  this  lady  if  it  is  no't  Amy  ?     It  must  be  her  spirit. 

Drake  then  related  the  incidents  of  the  day  and  who  Cora 
was,  the  similarity  between  the  two  girls,  and  the  mistakes 
that  had  been  made  in  taking  one  girl  for  the  other,  and  the 
meeting  of  Amy  and  her  lover, Walter  Wallace,  on  the  island, 
and  that  they  were  together  now. 

Cahoonshee  grew  stronger,  and  raised  up  in  bed. 

Come  here,  girl,  and  let  me  look  in  your  eyes,  and  read 
your  soul. 

Cora  advanced  to  the  bed.  Cahoonshee  took  her  hand  and 
gazed  into  her  eyes. 

You  have  the  same  form  and  features — the  same  eyes  and 
soul  of  Amy.  You  differ  in  name,  and  in  name  only,  and 
he  fell  back  on  his  pillow. 

Cora  and  Drake  withdrew  a  short  distance. 

I  fear,  said  Cora,  that  your  friend  has  but  a  short  time  to 
live. 

I  fear  not,  replied  Drake,  sobbing,  and  the  tears  running 
down  his  cheeks. 

She  took  him  by  the  hand  to  console  him, 
You  iQved  this  old  man  as  a  father  ? 


Yes,  more  than  a  father.  He  has  watched  ever  ire  since 
the  days  of  my  childhood.  He  has  sp~nt  days  and  nights 
educating  me.  He  has  periled  his  life  to  save  his  friends. 
And  I  came  here  at  this  time  to  hear  his  last  request.  I 
think  he  wants  to  be  buried  on  the  Steneykill. 

The  old  man  had  awakened  and  was  watching  them,  and 
saw  Cora  holding  Drake's  hand. 

Lady,  he  asked,  could  you  hold  his  heart  as  tenderly  and 
affectionately  as  you  hold  his  hand  ? 

Cora  blushed,  and  they  both  went  to  his  side. 

Shall  I  raise  you  up  further?  asked  Drake. 

Yes,  he  replied,  m}T  race  is  nearly  run.  I  will  soon  be  in 
the  Spirit  Land.  But  I  have  a  request  to  make  before  I  de- 
part. Send  for  Amy  and  the  rest  to  come  here. 

Drake  went  to  call  them  and  Cora  and  Cahoonshee  were 
left  alone. 

Sit  by  my  side  he  said,  and  tell  me  if  your  hand  and  heart 
are  free.  Tell  me  whether  holding  that  boy's  hand  was  ac- 
tuated by  pure  sympathy,  or  whether  a  higher  and  nobler 
attribute  springing  from  your  heart  prompted  it  ? 

Cora,  true  to  the  instincts  of  her  nature,  concealed  noth- 
ing. Throwing  her  arms  around  the  old  man's  neck,  and 
kissing  him,  said  ; 

Father,  you  read  my  heart.  How  could  you  tell  what  oc- 
cupied my  soul  ? 

Before  she  could  finish  the  sentence,  the  door  opened,  and 
in  walked  Drake  and  the  rest  of  the  friends.  Amy  threw 
herself  on  the  couch  and  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

Cahoonshee  roused. 

I  have  sent  for  you,  friends,  to  make  iny  last  request.  Be- 
fore the  setting  of  many  puns,  this  mortal  will  put  on  immor- 


206 

fcality.  Tins  spirit  will  go  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Grotmda. 
My  request  is  that  my  body  be  buried  on  the  Pine  Knoll 
west  of  my  cabin  on  the  Steneykill. 

It 'shall  be  done,  said  Drake  and  Walter  at  the  same 
time. 

Cahoonshee  continued : 

My  books  and  wiitings  I  give  to  Charles  Drake.  My  gun 
and  other  property  I  give  to  Tom  and  his  father,  and  to 
Amy  my  furs. 

Here  his  voice  faltered.  His  eyes  closed  and  for  several 
minutes  he  seemed  to  be  communing  with  the  Spirits  in  the 
Spirit  World,  His  countenance  showed  that  it  was  a  strug- 
gle of  mental  duty  that  he  wished  to  perform  before  he  shut 
his  eyes  for  the  last  time. 

Raise  me  up  a  little  higher.  Come  herej  boy;  Something 
tells  me  that  I  have  another  request  to  make;  I  may  be 
wrong. 

You  can't  be  wrong.  You  never  did  wrong.  Make  your 
request,  and  it  shall  be  obeyed.  I  have  followed  your  ad* 
vice  through  life.  At  death,  and  in  the  presence  of  these 
friends,  I  promise  to  revere  it. 

I  have  something  to  give  away.  It  consists  of  mind  and 
matter.  Have  I  a  right  to  give  it  ?  Heaven  direct  me. 

Heaven  will  direct  you,  and  what  heaven  directs  must  be 
right,  replied  Drake.  What  is  it,  father,  that  you  wish  to 
give  away  ? 

It  is  you,  my  boy,  it  is  you.  Here,  Cora,  taking  her  by  the 
hand  and  extending  it  to  Drake.  Take  this  gill,  and  may 
heaven  smile  on  your  union.  She  loves  you,  boy,  ardently, 
sincerely,  devotedly.  She  is  like  Amy,  not  only  in  form 
and  figure,  but  in  mind  and  soul.  My  work  is  done.  Lay 
me  down. 


207 
CHAPTER  XX. 

Farewell  to  Earth— Indian's  Idea  of  the  Hereafter— Death  of 
Cahoonshee— Married  on  Her  Mother's  Grave. 

Wallace  and  Drake  returned  to  the  deck  to  consult  as  to 
the  future. 

Have  you  any  plan  arranged  to  carry  out  Cahoonshee's  re- 
quest ? 

I  have,replied  Drake.  That  was  agreed  upon  in  the  pri- 
vate conversation  I  had  with  him  when  I  first  came  on  board 
of  the  ship.  It  is  to  build  a  litter  on  which  to  carry  him,and 
start  immediately  for  the  Delaware  Valley. 

What — before  he  is  dead  ? 

Yes,  immediately.  He  is  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he 
will  live  until  his  arrival  at  home.  At  any  rate,  that  is  his 
request,  and  it  shall  be  complied  with  if  possible. 

You  seem  to  have  perfect  confidence  in  the  wisdom  of  the 
old  man.  Do  you  intend  to  perform  his  last  request  and 
marry  Cora  ? 

My  promise  to  a  dying  man  is  sacred,  And  as  far  as  it  is 
in  my  power,  it  shall  be  performed.  I  do  not  know  what 
Cora's  feelings  are.  I  have  followed  his  advice  for  over 
twenty  years,  and  shall  not  reject  it  now.  If  Cora  is  willing 
I  shall  make  her  my  bride. 

Cora  had  approached  them  unperceived,  and  on  hearing 
Drake's  last  remark,  tapped  him  under  the  chin  and  said  : 

Then  I  shall  be  your  bride.  I  do  consent.  I  consented  on 
the  island,  when  you  held  me  in  your  arms  and  thought  I 
was  another  girl.  I  then  thought  that  Walter  had  found  a 
prize  that  belonged  to  another,  and  I  asked  you  if  you  loved 
her,  and  you  said  "  as  a  sister."  Now  kiss  me,  and  I  will  go 
and  see  my  intended  mother-in-law  and  Amy. 


208 

She  skipped  away  like  a  young-  fawn,  leaving  Walter  and 
Drake  to  perfect  their  plans. 

I  think,  said  Walter,  that  we  had  better  consult  the  Cap- 
tain. 

The  Captain  was  then  informed  of  the  plan  to  remove  Ca- 
hoonshee  to  his  home.  He  approved  of  the  same,  and  order- 
ed them  to  take  what  men  and  material  they  wanted  to  ac- 
complish their  object. 

How  long  will  you  be  gone  ?  inquired  the  Captain. 

That  is  uncertain,  and  will  depend  on  how  long  he  lives, 
replied  Drake.  I  shall  not  leave  him  until  I  have  performed 
my  promise. 

Just  then  Cora  and  Amy  came  rushing  up,  as  happy  as  two 
kittens.  Cora  threw  her  arms  around  Mrs.  Davis's  neck, 
looked  into  her  eyes,  and  s.dd  : 

Mother,  how  do  you  like  your  new  daughter-in-law  ? 

That  is  a  good  joke  on  you,  said  Lieutenant  Powers. 

But,  replied  Cora,  it  is  no  joke.  I  was  never  more  sincere 
in  my  life.  I  tell  you  my  name  is  Mrs.  Charles  Davis,  seiz- 
ing the  Captain  by  one  hand  and  Drake  by  the  other.  Come 
father,  why  don't  you  congratulate  us  ? 

For  what  ? 

For  rinding  a  son  and  losing  him  the  same  day  and  getting 
a  daughter  in  his  place. 

Do  you  think  that  you  could  love  my  son  011  so  short  an 
acquaintance  ? 

Oh,  we  met  before  we  came  on  the  ship. 

Where  ? 

On  the  island.  Oh,  if  you  had  seen  him  bug  and  kiss  me, 
you  would  have  thought  him  a  persistent  lover  and  that  he 
had  studied  the  art  to  perfection. 


My  children,  all  I  know  about  this  matter  is  what  1  havfe 
heard  Cahoonshee  say,  and  he  had  some  reasons  to  believe 
that  his  wishes  would  be  complied  with.  For  my  part,  I  am 
f  ready  to  believe  anything.  The  events  have  rushed  upon  us 
so  fast  for  the  past  forty  eight  hours,  that  I  have  lost  my 
reckoning.  But  if  you  two  intend  to  make  fast  to  each  other, 
leave  the  sea  of  single  blessedness  and  sail  upon  the  broad 
ocean  of  matrimony,you  have  my  consent.  But  our  first  duty 
is  to  take  care  of  Cahoonshee. 

The  ship  carpenter  biiilt  a  litter  on  which  to  carry  Cahoon- 
shee, and  the  arrangements  were  completed,  when  an  unex- 
pected difficulty  arose.  Amy  wished  to  return  with  the  par- 
ty, and  Cora  said  that  she  would  not  trust  Drake,  to  go 
through  that  wilderness  unless  she  was  along  to  protect  him. 
Then  the  doctor  appeared  and  informed  them  Rolla  was  sick 
and  would  probably  die,  but  that  Cahoonshee  was  strong- 
er. 

It  was  finally  arranged  that  both  of  the  girls  should  ac- 
company the  party  back  to  the  Delaware  Valley,and  officers 
were  sent  on  shore  to  procure  horses. 

Thus,  another  day  was  passed. 

The  next  morning  Cahoonshee  was  carried  on  shore  and 
placed  on  the  litter.  The  elder  Quick  was  sent  on  horse-back 
in  advance  to  announce  to  the  people  the  return  of  Cahoon. 
slice  and  his  condition. 

Amy,  Cora,  Walter  and  Drake  led  the  way,  followed  by 
Tom  and  Jack  and  ten  others  carrying  Cahoonshee. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  describe  the  incidents  of  the 
journey  home  further  than  to  say  that  during  the  entire 
journey,  the  greatest  respect  was  paid  to  the  returning  war- 
rior, by  both  natives  and  whites. 

It  already  appears  that  civilization  was  moving  west,  and 
at  the  time  of  which  we  write,  the  Delaware  Valley,  from 


Mil  ford,  on  the  south,  to  Mamakating,  on  the  north,  was  set- 
tled by  the  whites,  principally  of  the  Holland  and  French 
extractions,  among  which  were  the  Cudclebacks,  Deckers, 
Gumaers,  Van  Fleets,  Van  Inwegens,  Swartwouts  and  West- 
falls,  who  will  become  conspicuous  as  we  proceed  in  our 
history. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day,  the  parties  carrying  Ca~ 
hoonshee  arrived  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Neversink  River, 
(Port  Clinton,)  and  about  two  miles  from  the  PenepaCk  (Hii- 
guenol)  settlement. 

Here  the  principal  people  of  the  Valley  had  assembled  to 
pay  their  last  respects  to  a  man  that  all  had  loved, and  the  set- 
tlers above  mentioned  volunteered  to  accompany  the  party 
to  Cahoonshee's  cabin  on  the  Steneykill,  and  Amy  was  con- 
gratulated on  her  escape  from  the  Indians  and  return 
home. 

The  next  morning  they  marched  to  Peenpack,  and  from 
there,  by  way  of  the  Cahoonshee  trail,  to  the  Steneykill, 
where  they  found  the  elder  Quick  ready  to  receive  them. 

As  Cahoonshee  was  lifted  from  the  litter  and  carried  into 
his  old  home, his  countenance  brightened,  and  for.  a  few  mo- 
ments he  seemed  to  be  living  his  life  over  again.  Through 
the  western  window  the  declining  sun  could  be  seen.  The 
leaves  on  the  trees  presented  a  golden  hue,and  proclaimed  to 
the  observer  that  the  green  and  golden  forest  would  soon  be 
wrapped  in  the  cold  embrace  of  winter.  All  this  was  em- 
blematical to  Cahoonshee.  As  the  leaf  faded,  died  and  re- 
turned to  mother  earth,  so  would  he. 

My  friends,  he  said,  this  is  the  last  sun  that  I  shall  see  set. 
To-morrow,  at  this  time,  I  shall  have  passed  away.  That 
orb  that  has  so  long  furnished  me  light  and  heat  will  be  seen 
by  me  no  more. 


211 

t-fs  this  the  last  of  man  ?  or  is  there  an  existance   beyond    the 
rave?    If  not,  why  this  distinction  between    men    and    an- 

f'nals  ?     Do  what  I  may,  go  where  I  will,  I    am    always    im- 
ressed  by  some    influence — I  know  not    what — that    I    am 
mortal.     Yet  this  same  certain  something  convinces  me  that 
I  am  immortal. 

This  is  a  path  leading  to  the  Great  Spirit — a  mirror  of 
Diety.  And  to  prove  that,  it  is  not  necessary  to  explain 
how  I  came  by  this  idea — whether  I  derived  it  from  my  fore- 
fathers, or  whether  the  Great  Spirit  has  engraved  it  on  my 
mind,  or  whether  I,  myself  have  formed  it  from  a  chain  of 
principles. 

Of  myself,  I  am  fully  persuaded  that  I  have  an  idea  of  a 
being  supremely  great,  and  one,  whose  perfections  and 
powers  I  am  unable  to  understand.  And  I  know  that  there 
must  be  somewhere  without  me  an  object  answering  to  the 
idea  within. 

For,  as  I  think  and  as  I  know  that  I  am  not  the  author  of 
the  faculty  that  thinks  within  me,  I  am  obliged  to  conclude 
that  a  foreign  cause  has  produced  it.  If  this  foreign  cause 
is  a  being  that  derives  its  existance  from  another  foreign 
cause,  then  I  am  necessarily  obliged  to  proceed  from  one 
step  to  another,  and  in  this  way  go  on  until  I  find  a  self  ex- 
isting being.  That  self  existing  being  is  the  Indian's  Great 
Spirit — the  white  man's  God. 

This  idea  is  not  a  phantom  of  my  creation,  it  is  the  por- 
trait of  the  original.  It  exists  in  me  and  independent  of 
me.  Thus,  in  myself  I  find  proof  of  a  first  great  cause. 

I  am  now  going  to  unite  myself  to  that  cause.  To-morrow 
I  lay  this  body  down.  The  body  will  return  to  its  original 
dust,  and  my  spirit  to  its  original — to  the  Great  Spirit  that  gave 
it. 


212 

I  have  no  desire  to  stay  any  longer.  My  tribe  has  become 
extinct.  My  race  is  passing  away.  The  Indians  of  the 
American  forest  will  live  in  history  only — raise  me  up  a  lit- 
tle higher,  Drake — there,  that  wtll  do.  I  see  the  silver 
streaks  in  the  east,  and  soon  the  sun  will  cast  its  cheerful 
rays  over  this  beautiful  landscape,  to  be  seen,  but  not  by 
me.  Then  Cahoonshee  will  have  winged  his  way  to  the  last 
hunting  ground. 

The  whole  party  was  standing  by  the  dying  man.  His 
mind  was  clear,  strong  and  vigorous,but  his  voice  was  weak. 

The  sun  rose  over  the  eastern  hills  and  cast  its  rays  in  the 
old  man's  face.  A  perceptible  smile  lit  up  his  countenance, 
and  he  faintly  said  : 

It  is  finished. 

Thus  died  the  last  of  the  Cahoonshecs. 

A  rude  coffin  is  made,  and  Cahoonshee  is  carried  to  the 
house  prepared  for  all  living. 

What  a  commentary  on  human  nature.  A  few  years  be- 
fore, the  Delaware  Valley  swarmed  with  the  red  men  of  the 
forest.  Now  the  last  of  his  race  is  carried  to  his  grave  by 
the  white  man.  Cuddeback  and  Gumaer  on  the  left  and 
Swartwout  and  Van  Etten  on  the  right,  carry  him  to  the 
grave,  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  bury  him  on  a 
pine  hill,  west  of  his  cabin. 

There  was  no  ringing  of  bells,  no  mock  eulogy,  no  hypo- 
critical mourning.  But  in  silence  they  laid  him  away,  each 
one  feeling  that  the  body  of  one  of  the  wisest  and  best  of 
men  reposed  there.  (See  Appendix.) 

The  parties  then  returned  to  thf  cabin  and  distributed  the 
personal  effects  of  Cahoonshee, and  then  proceeded  to  Quick's 
cabin  on  the  Shinglekill. 

The  next  morning  they  went  to  Hawk's  Nest, where  Drake 
pointed  out  to  Walter  the  point  in  the  river  where  he  first 


213 

saw  the  float  with  Amy  and  her  mother  on  it.  Then  they 
visited  the  Callicoon,  the  former  home  of  Walter  and  Amy. 
!*here  was  the  old  sugar  maple  tree  where  they  had  so  often 
jlayed,  and  where  they  first  learned  to  love.  There  was  the 
towering  oak  where  Walter  shot  the  panther.  There  was 
the  tree  where  his  cat  Amy  stood,  and  just  over  the  ridge 
was  where  he  found  surveyor  Webb. 

The  reader  can  imagine  the  thoughts  that  passed  through 
their  minds  as  they  sat  under  the  tree^  holding  each  other's 
hands,  living  over  again  the  days  of  their  childhood. 

Walter,  said  Amy,  there  is  one  more  place  I  wish  to  visit, 
and  then  I  will  be  ready  to  go  with  you  to  England.  I  wish 
to  go  once  more  to  my  mother's  grave. 

Did  we  not  pass  near  it  on  the  way  to  Hawk's  Nest  ? 

Yes,  but  I  did  not  wish  to  go  there  then.  There  is  where  I 
lost  my  best  friend,  and  there  is  where  I  wish  to  give  my 
hand  to  you — my  heart  you  have  always  owned.  I  gave  it  to 
you  under  this  tree.  Let  us  go  to  the  grave  of  my  mother. 
There  for  the  first  first  time  let  me  call  you  husband. 

Walter  could  not  deny  this  request,  although  he  had  in- 
tended to  defer  the  marriage  until  their  arrival  in  London. 

The  parties  then  returned  to  the  Shinglekill,  where  prepara- 
tions were  made  to  celebrate  the  nupitals  of  Walter  and  Amy. 

The  pastor  of  the  little  flock  of  worshipers  that  resided  in 
the  Valley,  Johannes  Casparus  Fryenmout,  was  invited  to 
officiate  on  the  occasion,  and  biing  with  him  his  young  wife 
that  he  had  lately  taken  from  the  Van  Etten  family. 

His  little  church  was  built  of  logs,  and  was  situated  on  the 
road  leading  from  Carpenters  Point  .(Tri-States,)  to  Kings- 
ton, on  the  west  bank  cf  the  Machackamack  (Neversink( 
River.  (See  Appendix.) 

He  thought  that  the  wedding  should  take  place  at  his 
church,  assigning  as  a  reason,  that  "a  grave  yard  was  not  in 


214 

keeping  with  the  occasion."  But  Amy  thought  different, 
and  insisted  that  the  marriage  should  take  place  at  her 
mother's  grave. 

It  was  a  warm  November  day  when  they  left  Quick's  cabin 
to  march  to  the  cemetery  that  contained  a  single  grave.  The 
good  pastor  led  the  way,  followed  by  the  Quick's  and  other 
neighbors.  Next  came  Tom  and  Jack,  followed  by  the  sail- 
ors and  marines.  Then  came  Amy  and  Cora,  followed  by 
Walter  and  Drake. 

As  the  head  of  the  column  reached  the  consecrated  place 
the  lines  divided, and  the  heroes  of  our  tale  marched  through 
and  took  their  station  at  the  head  of  the  grave. 

The  pastor  took  for  his  text  the  words  that  Cahoonshee 
had  cut  on  the  grave  stone  : 

(i  Here  lies  Mary,  the  mother  of  Amy." 

Here  we  have  another  proof  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
Psalmist :  •'  God  works  in  a  mysterious  way  his  wonders  to 
perform."  Years  ago,  the  mother  of  the  lady  that  is  about 
to  take  upon  herself  the  duties  of  a  wife,  was  consigned  to 
this  grave.  Her  body  lies  mouldering  in  the  silent  tomb. 
Her  soul  has  gone  to  the  God  that  gave  it.  And  if,  as  we 
are  assured,  that  angels  are  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  per- 
fect, then  the  spirit  of  that  mother  is  hovering  over  and 
about  us,  and  I  doubt  not,  approving  of  this  union.  From 
the  da)7  her  body  was  consigned  to  this  grave,  a  mysterious 
providence  has  protected  her  child.  And  not  only  her  child, 
but  the  child  of  William  Wallace,  who  is  now  about  to  make 
her  his  bride.  My  friends,  as  a  token  that  this  union  has 
the  sanction  of  Heaven,  that  you  have  given  to  and  received 
each  other  to  yourself,  that  each  of  you  possesses  tJi«e  whole 
of  the  other's  heart,  that  you  are  twain,  one  flesh,  you  will 
signify  it  by  kneeling  on  this  sacred  grave.  Here,  _  in  the 


215 

tesence  of  Heaven  and  these  witnesses,    I    pronounce    you 
le,  and  recorded  in  Heaven  as    husband    and    wife.      And 
lay  the  same  kind  providence  that  has  so   mysteriously   led 
in  the  past  continue  to  watch  over  you.      May    the  same- 
love  and  emotions  that   was  your  polar  star  when   in    search 
of  each  other  still  continue  to  shine.     And   when    the    time 
•  comes  for  an  earthly  separation,  may  there  be  a  re-union   in 
Heaven  between  mother  and  child.     Amen. 

Drake  had  been  an  interested  spectator  of  this  scene.  It 
brought  vividly  to  his  memory  the  history  of  the  past.  He 
remembered  that  at  this  grave  he  had  tried  to  console  Amy 
for  the  loss  she  sustained  by  the  death  of  her  mother.  That 
on  this  spot  he  had  promised  to  search  for  her*  lover,  and 
now  on  this  spot  he  had  witnessed  the  consumation  of  his 
wishes.  At  his  side  stood  Cora,  his  affianced  wife.  Were 
their  hearts  united  like  the  couple  that  had  knelt  before 
them  ?  He  felt  a  strong  infatuation  for  Cora.  Was  it  real  ? 
Did  it  come  from  the  heart,  or  was  it  the  influence  that  Ca- 
hoonshee  still  exerted  over  him  ?  Was  it  the  promise  that 
he  had  made  a  dying  man  that  influenced  him  ? 

From  the  time  they  left  the  ship    until    Amy's    marriage, 
Cora  had  been  in  his  company,  but  by  no  word  or  action  had 
she  referred   to  the  scene  on   the    ship,  where    Cahoonshee 
had  placed  her  hand  in  his  and  said  : 
"  She  loves  you  !  " 

True,  at  that  time,  she  seemed  to  acquiesce  to  the  dying 
man's  request.  Was  this  real,  or  was  it  an  acquiesance  to 
please  an  aged  warrior,  and  dismissed  from  her  mind  when 
death  had  closed  his  eyes  ? 

I  will  k.now,  now  and  here,  he  thought  to  himself. 

He  offered  Cora  his  arm,  and  they  walked  to  the  upper 
end  of  Butternut  Grove-  Seating  themselves,  he  said  : 


216 

Cora,  you  remember  the  occasion  on  the  ship,  when  all 
were  present,  and  Cahoonshee  joined  our  hands,  and  asked 
me  to  make  you  my  wife  ?  I  consider  that  promise  sacred, 
and  my  love  of  the  memory  of  the  dead  tells  me  to  keep  it. 
But  with  you  it,  is  different.  I  have  no  right  to  insist  that 
you  should  keep  a  promise  given  under  such  circiimstances. 
Tell  me  frankly,  Cora,  do  you  feel  yourself  bound  by  that 
promise  ? 

Cora  siezed  both  of  his  hands,  and  looked  intently  into  his 
eyes,  said  : 

Charles,  do  you  wish  me  to  keep  that  promise  ? 

Drake  was  not  prepared  to  answer  this  straight  forward 
question,  and  wished  for  time  to  collect  his  thoughts.  Cora 
noticed  his  confusion,  and  said  : 

I  will  answer  your  question.  I  do  feel  myself  bound  by 
that  promise — not  that  I  made  it  to  Cahoonshee,  but  from 
the  fact  that  my  heart  was  yours  before  -that  promise  was 
made. 

When  ?  he  asked. 

On  the  island,  she  replied.  Now  Charles,  I  have  answered 
your  question,  Will  you  answer  mine  ?  Do  you  wish  me  to 
keep  mine  ? 

I  do  if— 

Don't  have  any  ifs  about  it,  throwing  her  arms  around 
him.  Now  hug  and  kiss  me  as  you  did  on  the  island. 

He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  said  : 

Cora.  I  neither  know  myself  or  you.  Yet  something  tells 
me  that  without  you  life  would  be  miserable. 


217 
CHAPTER  XXL 

Cora  Receives  Her  Reward. 


The  next  morning  they  parted,  the  Quicks  returning  to 
their  farm  at  Milford,  and  Walter,  Amy  and  friends  to  the 
Hudson,  arriving  there  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day. 

They  were  met  at  the  landing  by  Lieutenant  Powers  and 
escorted  to  the  Reindeer,  where  they  were  joyfully  received 
by  Captain  Davis  and  wife. 

Then  the  events  of  the  journey  were  related,  and  Amy  and 
Walter  introduced  to  them  as  husband  and  wife. 
'     Cora  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  sought  the  first   oppor- 
tunity to  make  a  demand  on  Captain  Davis   for  the    reward 
he  had  offered  for  the  recovery  of  his  son. 

I  claim  the  reward,  she  said. 

You  shall  have  it,  he  replied.  Let  me  see.  I  believe  it 
was  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  We  will  call  it  that, 
more  or  less.  Purser,  bring  the  sparkling  gold. 

I  prefer  sparkling  eyes,  replied  Cora,  taking  Charles  by  the 
hand  and  advancing  to  the  Captain.     I  want    the    one    hun- ' 
dred  and  fifty  pounds  you  promised,  but  I  don't  want    it    in 
gold,  I  want  one  hundred  and  fifty    pounds  avoirdupoise,  in 
flesh  and  blood.     In  a  word,  I  want  your  son  for  a  husband. 

My  son  is  of  age  and  can  speak  for  himself,  said  the  Cap- 
tain. 

And  he  has  spoken  for  himself.  He  has  promised  to  mar- 
ry me. 

Ah,  sly  puss,  said  the  Captain.  That  is  the  result  of  al- 
lowing you  to  go  off  together  in  the  wilds  of  the  Delaware 
Valley. 


218 

You  are  mistaken  there,  Captain.  As  far  as  our  hearts  are 
concerned,  that  was  settled  before  we  started. 

Charles,  said  the  Captain,  marraige  is  a  personal  matter 
in  which  parents  should  advise, but  never  control  their  child- 
ren. But  if  you  have  agreed,  you  have  my  consent.  Set  the 
time  for  the  wedding-,and  I  will  see  that  ample  arrangemen's 
are  made. 

I  think,  said  Charles,  that  my  mother  should  be  consult- 
ed. 

Certainly,  replied  Cora. 

I  think,  said  Mrs.  Davis,  that  the  marriage  should  be  de- 
ferred until  we  reach  home.  A  few  months'  acquaintance 
may  change  your  feelings.  I  fear  the  promise  made  to  Ca- 
hoonshee  is  the  moving  cause  to  this  engagement.  If  so.  it 
might  be  disasterotis  to  both  parties. 

•While  Cora  was  .standing  at  the  grave  of  Mary  Powers  she 
resolved  that  if  she  married  Drake,  it  should  be  at  her  fath- 
er's house,  and  for  that  reason  intended  to  defer  the  mar- 
riage until  they  arrived  in  London.  But  she  didn't  like  the 
reasoning  of  Mrs.  Davis.  The  idea  that  any  change  could 
take  place  was  preposterous,  as  she  was  convinced  that 
Charles  loved  her,  and  that  her  heart  was  in  the  right 
place. 

The  parties  then  went  into  a  committee  of  the  whole,  and 
resolved  to  let  all  matters  rest  until  they  arrived  in.  Lon- 
don. 

In  a  few  days  the  anchor  is  raised,  and  the  Reindeer  starts 
on  her  ocean  voyage,  and  in  due  time  entered  the  Thames. 

This  brought  to  Walter's  mind  the  contrast  between  the 
past  and  present.  When  he  sailed  up  the  river  before,  all 
was  doubt  and  uncertainty.  Then  the  object  of  his  affections 
was  far  behind,  somewhere  in  the  wilderness  of  America, 


219 

tow  she  stood  by  his  side,his  Amy,his  loving"   bride.     Theft 

was  uncertain  how  he  would  be  received.  Now  he  knew 
that  he  would  be  welcome  and  received  as  the  child  and  heir 
fot  two  of  the  first  families  in  London. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  Reindeer  is  nearing  the  harbor, 
the  docks  of  which  were  lined  with  people:  The  parties 
landed,  and  Lord  and  Lady  Wallace  gave  their  children  a 
hearty  welcome.  Amy  was  put  in  posession  of  her  share  of 
her  grand-father's  property,  and  Tom  Jones  married  Jack 
Frost's  eldest  daughter. 

A  few  evenings  after  their  arrival,  the  mansion  of  the  old 
Admiral  was  ablaze  of  light.  The  occasion  was  the  mar- 
riage of  Charles  Davis  to  Cora  Powers. 

After  the  ceremony  was  over,  Walter  invited  all  present 
to  the  art  gallery,  which  contained  many  objects  of  interest, 
but  none  were  more  conspicuious  than  the  preserved 
skins,  stuffed  and  made  natural,  of  the  white  cats,  Walt  and 
Amy,  and  standing  between  them,  looking  as  natural  as  life, 
was  the  dog  Rolla.  And  here  we  will  dismiss  them  and  re- 
turn to  the  Delaware  Valley. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Death  of  Thomas  Quick,  Sr.,  and  the  Threat  of  His  Son  Tom. 


Many  years  have  passed  since  William  Wallace  and 
Thomas  Powers  passed  up  the  Delaware  Valley.  Then  the 
country  was  one  unbroken  forest,  inhabited  by  wild  beasts 
and  Indians  only  Now  all  has  changed.  The  Indians  have 
mostly  left,  and  the  whites  have  taken  their  place.  The  flat 
land  from  Milford  to  Mamakating  is  mostly  improved,  and 
is  yielding  to  the  farmer  an  abundant  harvest.  Stacks  of 
hay  and  grain  are  to  be  seen  in  every  field.  The  .-flail  is 


220 

heard  from  morn  till  night  thrashing  out  the  golden  wheat. 
In  every Jiouse  is  heard  the  buzzing  wheel,  the  prattling 
babe  and  the  merry  voices  of  lovely  maids.  Grist  and  saw 
mills  have  been  erected,  schools  established,  and  passible 
reads  built. 

But  now  a  cloud  appears.  It  was  the  cloud  that  Cahoons'.ice 
had  foretold  many  years  before.  That  : 

"There  would  be  a  war  of  extermination  between  the 
white  men  and  the  Indians,  and  the  Indians  would  be  exter- 
minated.'' 

The  Indians' elf  iraed  that  they  had  been  cheated  by  the 
whites,and  robbed  and  driven  from  their  soil  and  the  graves 
of  their  fathers.  Revenge  smothered  in  their  breasts,  and 
at  a  council  held  ,by  the  remenants  of  several  of  the 
tribes,  if  was  resolved  to  destroy  all  the  whites  in  the  Dela- 
ware and  Neversink  Valleys. 

The  whites  did  not  see  the  danger  that  was  impending  over 
them,  or  the  dark  cloud  that  would  soon  deluge  the  Valley 
with  blood  and  cause  mourning  in  every  house. 

Most  of  the  inhabitants  thought  the  Indians  friendly,  and 
those  that  were  unfriendly  too  few  to  make  war  on  the 
whites. 

For  this  reason  they  became  careless,  and  went  to  their 
fields  and  on  journeys  unarmed,  and  thus  became  easy  vic- 
tims of  the  savages. 

Thomas  Quick,  sr.,  was  now  living  on  his  farm  at  Milford, 
and  had  always  been  a  staunch  friend  of  the  Indians.  His 
house  had  always  been  open  for  their  reception  and  his  table 
bountifully  spread  to  satisfy  their  wants. 

His  son,  Tom  spent  most  of  his  time  among  them  and  ap- 
peared to  think  more  of  them  and  their  savage  life  than  he 
did  of  his  father  and  the  comforts  of  home. 


He  'thought  that  this  would  protect  him,  and  lhat  if  war 
was  made  upon  the  whites,  he  would  not  be  molested. 

But  he  was  decievecl.  Instead  of  being  passed  by,  he  was 
doomed  to  be  the  first  victim.  His  sentence  had  already 
been  passed,  and  the  wily  Indians  were  waiting-  in  ambush 
for  an  opportunity  to  execute  it. 

Having  occasion  to  use  some  hoop-poles,  he,  with  his  son 
Tom  and  his  son-in-law,  went  up  the  river  to  cut  them  un- 
armed. 

At  this  time  the  Indians  were  concealed,  planning  an  at- 
tack on  the  Milford  settlement,with  the  intention  of  putting 
to  death  the  entire  population.  Knowing  that  Quick  and  his 
sons  kept  trusty  rifles  and  that  their  aim  was  deadly, they  fal- 
tered and  argued  as  to  the  best  mode  of  attack. 

In  the  midst  of  this  harrangue,  Quick  and  his  sons  were 
seen  coming  toward  them.  It  was  immediately  resolved  to 
take  their  scalps. 

An  Indian  by  the  name  of  Muswink  fired,  and  Quick  fell 
mortally  wounded.  Ht  advised  his  son  to  leave  him  to  his 
fate  and  save  themselves.  But  they  persisted  in  trying  to 
save  him.  He  cried  again  as  the  Indians  rushed  upon  them. 

Leave  me  and  save  yourselves  and  those  that  are  at  the 
house. 

It  was  a  struggle  for  Tom  to  leave  his  father,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  saw  them  coming  in  great  numbers  that  he  fled. 

Farewell,  Father,  Farewell,  your  death  shall  be  avenged. 

Then  he  fled  across  the  river  on  the  ice,  a  volley  of  bullets 
followed  him.  He  falls.  The  war  whoop  is  sounded. 

Tom  is  dead — Tom  is  dead  ! 

But  Tom  is  neither  dead  nor  wounded.  He  springs  to  his 
feet  and  escapes  to  the  Jersey  Shore.  A  ball  had  struck  the 
heel  of  his  shoe  and  tripped  him. 


in  the  meantime  his  fathe  had  been  killed  and  scalpe'd 
Tom  sought  the  opportunity  nd  recovered  the  scalped  body 
of  his  father  and  gave  it  Christian  burial.  His  love  for  the 
Indians  and  their  society  now  forsook  him,  and  the  upper- 
most thought  in  his  mind  was  revenge.  He  covered  the  grave 
with  green  sod,  and  taking  his  knife  in  his  right  hand,and  his 
rifle  in  his  left,  looking  toward  heaven,  exclaimed  ; 

"  By  the  point  of  the  knife  in  my  right, 
"  and  the  deadly  bullet  in  my  left  ; 
"  By  heaven  and  all  there  is  in  it, 
"  by  earth  and  all  there  is  on  it  ; 
"  By  the  love  I  bore  my  father, 
"  here  on  his  grave  I  swear  eternal  vengence 
'"  against  the  whole  Indian  race. 
v  I  swear  to  kill  all,  t'6  spare  none  ; 
'"  The  old  man  with  silver  hair, 
"  The  lisping  babe  without  teeth, 
'"  the  mother  quick  with  child,  and 
"  the  maid  in  the  bloom  of  youth  shall  die. 
"  A  voice  from  my  father's  grave  cries 

'•  Revenge  !     Eternal  revenge  !  and  he  threw  himself  across 
his  father's  grave. 

How  well  Tom  kept  his  promise  and  how  many  Indians 
his  rifle  sent  to  the  Spirit  world  will  appear  in  the  next 
chapter. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Tom  kept  his  vow  and  had  his  revenge. 


The  threat  of  Tom  Quick  mentioned  in  the  preceeding 
chapter  was  one  that  was  not  made  in  vain.  It  was  made 
while  he  was  standing  in  the  presence  of  his  dead  father.  On 


.finding  the  body,  he  turned  it  over  and  exclaimed,  '•'  dead 
and  scalped."  Tradition  says  that  from  that  moment  he  was 

-a  changed  man.  His  love  for  the  society  of  the  Indians  for- 
sook him,  and  his  only  thought  was  revenge  ;  and  turning  to 

• 
his  mother  and  other  friends  said,  "  You  will  see  that  father 

is  properly  biiried,  I  have  other  work  to  do.  From  this  time 
my  work  will  be  to  avenge  my  father's  death."  Then  fol- 
lowed the  vow  recorded  in  the  former  chapter — "  To  kill  all 
and  spare  none."  And  left  his  friends  to  perform  the  last 
office  to  the  dead,  and  went  forth  on  his  mission  of  revenge. 
For  two  years  after  this  he  was  seldom  seen  in  the  settle- 
ments, and  then  only  long  enough  to  procure  powder  and 
shot,  which  was  his  chief  stock  in  trade.  Tom  seldom  talked 
and  then  only  to  hunters  or  those  he  could  rely  on  to  keep 
his  secrets  ;  except  to  himself  and  to  his  gun,  which  was  of 
the  largest  size,  being  seven  feet  four  inches  long  and  weighed 
21  pounds,  and  carried  a  ball  one  inch  in  diameter.  It  \vas  an 
old  saying  that  when  one  of  Tom's  bullets  went'  through  an 
Indian,  that  it  made  two  windows  in  him  and  a  hall  between 
them.  I  have  said  that  Tom  seldom  talked  except  to  himself 
and  he  did  the  most  of  this  when  he  was  alone,  or  at  least 
when  he  thought  he  was  alone.  But  he  was  heard  on  several 
occasions,  and  tradition  has  handed  down  to  us  several  of 
his  soliloquies,  The  following  is  a  fair  sample  of  his  home 
talk.  He  had  been  out  on  a  hunt  and  had  returned  to  his 
cabin  in  the  edge  of  evening  with  a  saddle  of  vension.  He 
hung  the  vension  up  on  the  corner  of  the  house  and  looked 
toward  the  east  where  he  saw  a  full  moon,  when  he  solo- 
quized  as  follows  : 

"  This  is  rather  a  nice  evening.  Let  me  see,  it  is  a  full 
moon  ;  a  good  coon  night.  What  say  you  long  Tom,,  (rais- 
ing his  gun)  how  would  you  like  to  drop  one  of  the  red  coons 
before  morning.  I  would  ;  that  would  make  just  87  red  dev- 


224 

ils  that  I  have  sent  to  the  Spirit  land  since  Muswink  mur- 
dered my  father.  Tell  me,  O  ye  stars,  (looking  up)  for  what 
was  he  murdered.  For  being  a  friend  to  the  Indian,  for 
furnishing  them  with  shelter  and  food, for  being  a  good  man, 
a  kind  iieighbor,a  God-fearing  and  God-loving  man.  Father, 
my  father,  you  sleep  on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware  ;  no  only 
your  body  lies  there,your  spirit  is  here,  there,everywhere  it  is 
now  hoveringround  and  about  me.  It  is  continually  whisper- 
ing in  my  ear  revenge,  revenge.  It  is  God's  will,  father  that 
your  death  should  be  avenged.  It  is  God's  will  that  your  son 
Tom  Quick  should  be  the  avenger.  For  this  I  have  left  home 
and  the  comforts  of  civilized  life  and  burrowed  in  the  ground 
like  a  rabbit.  For  this  I  left  the  mother  that  gave  me 
birth,  and  taught  me  to  say  :  '  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep' 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep  ;  If  I  should  die  before 
I  wake,  I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take.'  That  kind  good 
and  generous  mother  now  kneels  on  the  old  family  hearth  and 
mourns  the  loss  of  the  living  as  though  dead.  Maggie  too;  God 
bless  her.  She  is  here  ;  I  feel  her  continually  knocking  at 
my  heart, saying  'Uncle  Tom, come  home.'  Pray  on  dear  girl, 
and  when  my  mission  is  ended,  may  father,  son,  mother  and 
child  meet  in  that  happy  hunting  ground  where  there  will 
be  no  father's  blood  to  avenge." 

Here  Tom  was  interrupted  in  his  soliloquy  by  an  ususual 
noise  in  his  pig  pen.  He  was  always  on  the  alert,  knowing 
that  the  Indians  intended  to  shed  his  blood  and  take  his  scalp. 
Therefore  he  took  notice  of  every  sound.  It  was  uncom- 
mon for  the  pig  to  squeal.  This  squal  sounded  unnatural, 
and  Tom  concluded  that  the  squealing  eminated  from  the 
throat  of  an  Indian.  "  Some  new  deve'.try  is  going  on  ;  that 
squeal  sounds  more  like  a  two  legged  devil  than  a  four  legged 
hog.  Come  Tom,  (taking  his  gun)  let  us  look  around  and  see 
if  one  of  those  pesky  red  skins  is  trying  to  steal  our  pork- 


(Pi-  squeals.)       That  is  pretty  well   done,  yet   the   genuine 
Crammer  is  left  out.  You- forget  to  dot  yourl's  and  cross 
T's.     (Squeals  again.)     That  is  a  little  better,and  might 
;ceive  a  boy,  but  it  wont  me.     Tom  is  too  old  for  that.  You 
id  better  stop  squealing  and  go  to  praying  for  the  devil  will 
lave  a  new  comer  before  morning,  or  my  name  is   not    Tom 
)uick.     Come  Tom  (taking  up   his  gun)  let  us  walk   around 
and  see  how  his  porkship  looks   in   the   rear.       Tom    passes 
•through  his  cabin  and  appears  to  the  left  of  the  pigpen.     He 
[was  not  mistaken  in  his  calculation,    for    there    he    saw    a 
>owerful  Indian  holding  the  hog  by  the  with  the  left   hand, 
rhile  he  held  the  gun  in  his  right,  ready  to  shoot  Tom  when 
he  came  to  see  what  was  the    matter    with    the    pig.1     Tom 
aimed  and  fired.     The  Indian  gave  one  whoop,  leaped  in  the 
air,  and  fell  on  the  outside  of  the   pen    dead.      A    ball    had 
pierced  his  head.     Tom    placed    his    foot    on    the    Indian's 
breast. 

Well  done,  Tom,  patting  his  gun.  Well  done.  Let  me  see. 
That  makes  the  record  just  eighty-seven  red  devils  that  I 
have  sent  to  the  Spirit  World  since  Muswink  murdered  my 
father.  Let  me  see.  According  to  old  Daball,  it  will  take 
just  thirtern  more  to  make  an  even  hundred.  Tom,  let  us 
pray. 

He  kneels,  holding  the  gun  before  him. 
Good  Lord,  or  good  devil — either  one  or  both,  I  do  hereby 
pray  that  I  may  be  permitted  to'remain  in  this  mortal  coil 
until  I  have  sent  thirteen  more  Indians  to  the  Spirit  Land. 
Then  I  shall  be  ready  and  willing  to  depart  to  the  Hunter's 
Paradise.  Amen. 

Tom  gets  up  off  his  knees  and  turns  the  Indian  over  with 
his  foot. 

Well,  Mr.  Squealer,  why  don't  you  squeal  now  ?  I  guess 
that  Long  Tom  has  taken  all  the  squeal  out  of  you.  I  sup- 


226 

pose  that  when  the  bullet  went  in,  the  squeal  went  out.  But 
I  must  get  rid  of  you.  You  will  smell  bad  here  and  will  in- 
vite the  bears  and  wolves  to  view  your  miserable  carcass. 
Come,  take  your  last  leap  down  the  locks. 

Then  Tom  threw  his  carcass  down  the  rocks  and  went  on 
his  way  rejoicing'. 

The  stories  of  Tom's  adventures  are  legion,  and  for  nearly 
one  hundred  years  have  been  told.  The  author  heard  them 
related  nearly  seventy  years  ago.  His  father  lived  in  the 
days  of  Tom  Quick  and  was  conversant  with  his  history. 

Tom  made  it  his  habit  to  watch  the  Indians  and  shoot 
them  as  they  went  up  and  down  the  Delaware  in  their  canoes 
and  frequently  waylaid  them  as  they  traveled  through  the 
country  on  their  trails  or  deerpaths. 

With  these  paths  he  was  well  acquainted  and  would  spend 
days  and  months  lurking  in  the  vicinity  of  their  haunts  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  a  shot  at  one  or  more  of  them.  Every 
few  days  an  Indian  was  missed.  He  was  last  seen  in  ihe 
company  of  Tom,  but  never  after. 

The  Indians  knew  that  Tom  had  sworn  that  he  would  kill 
them  whenever  opportunity  offered.  Consequently,  when 
an  Indian  was  missing  it  was  laid  to  Tom. 

Furthermore.  Tom  had  a  knack  of  finding  .  a  great  many 
guns  in  his  travels  through  the  woods.  It  was  usually 
thought  that  he  found  the  Indian  that  owned  the  gun  before 
he  found  the  gun. 

For  this  reason  the  Indians  were  not  only  anxious,  but  de- 
ter.nined  to  kill  him.  Many  a  ball  had  been  fired  at  him,  but 
they  all  went  wide  of  the  mark.  The  Indians  believed  that 
the  white  man's  God  protected  him,  that  he  had  a  charmed 
life,  and  cotildnotbe  hit  by  abullet  fired  by  an  Indian.  They 
therefore  resolved  to  take  him  alive,  and  to  that  end  six 
Braves  were  appointed  to  watch  and  capture  him. 


227- 

It  so  happened  that  about  this  time  Tom  was  splitting  rails 
ftor  a  Mr.  Westbrook  who  then  lived  in  the  Mamakating  Val- 
'ley.  Tom  wished  to  get  the  rails  split  in  the  forenoon  as  he 
had  been  informed  that  there  was  to  be  total  eclipse  of  the 
sun  about  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  it  would 
then  be  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see  to  work.  The  log  he 
was  trying  to  split  was  winding  and  cross  grained,  and  'the 
blows  of  the  heavy  beetle  on  the  wedges  failed  to  open  the 
log.  Tom  was  nearly  out  of  breath  and  quite  out  of  patience, 
and  commenced  talking  to  himself 

"  Here  I  am  at  Westbrookville  splitting  rails.  I  should  be 
at  Shohola  splitting  heads  and  scattering  Indian  brains.  That 
would  be  more  in  keeping  with  my  conscience,  than  to  stand 
here  and  pound  these  wedges.  Confound  the  log,  it  is  as 
cross  grained  as  a  peperage,  and  sticks  to  the  bark  as  close 
as  an  Indian  to  his  scalping  knife.  Curse  the  red  Devils,  I 
long  to  see  the  last  one  killed  and  scalped.  If  there  was 
more  Tom  Quick's  there  would-be  less  Indians.  Well,  they 
are  growing  less  every  da)*.  Yesterday  I  sent  five  more  to 
the  Spirit  land.  Yesterday  I  colored  Butler's  Falls  with 
blood.  Yesterday  the  hawks  at  Hawk's  Nest  mountain 
wafted  the  spirits  of  five  more  to  the  Indians  eternal  hunting 
ground.  There  were  big  spirits  and  little  spirits.  It  was  easy 
to  pop  over  the  old  man  and  his  Squaw,  but  when  it  came  to 
knocking  out  the  brains  of  the  little  babe,  that  kinder  went 
against  the  grain.  Confound  the  little  redskin,  he  looked  me 
right  in  the  eye  and  laughed — as  much  as  to  say,  '  Uncle  Tom 
don't.'  I  most  wish  that  I  had  spared  the  boy  to  see  if  any- 
thing could  be  made  out  of  a  redskin.  But  pshaw  !  Papooses 
become  Indians  as  surety  as  knils  become  lice.  But  I  must 
go  to  work,  or  the  sun  will  darken  before  I  get  these  rails 
split.  To-day  comes  the  great  eclipse  of  the  sun  and  soou 
that  orb  from  which  we  receive  light  and  heat  will  be  ob- 


scured,  and  the  earth  will  he  wrapped  in  the  mantle  of  night 
I  see  that  it  is  approaching  and  darkness  will  soon  prevail." 

This  soliloquy  nearly  cost  Tom  his  life.  Whilst  he  was 
talking  six  dusky  Indians  were  noiselessly  crawling  toward 
him.  So  stealthily  had  been  their  approach  that  Tom  was  not 
aware  of  their  presence  until  he  was  grasped  by  two  stalwart 
Indians.  He  sprang  for  his  rifle,  dragging  the  Indians  with 
him,  but  the  others  came  and  Tom  was  overpowered.  He 
saw  his  peril  and  knew  that  it  was  only  by  strategy  that  he 
could  escape.  The  fact  of  the  eclipse  flashed  across  his  mind 
and  he  resolved  at  once  to  excite  the  superstition  of  the  In- 
dians by  appealing  to  the  white  man's  God. 

Hawkeye  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence.  "  Pale  face, 
your  time  has  come.  The  Avenger  of  the  Delaware  Valley 
must  die.  At  sun  down  you  can  fight  faggot  and  fire.  Now  call 
on  the  white  man's  God  and  see  if  he  will  save  you." 

Tom  replied  :  "  The  white  man's  God  is  the  Indian's  great 
spirit  ;  that  spirit  is  here  d":~\  talks  with  me." 

Hawkeye  looked  at  1  ..n  with  astonishment.  "  What  does 
the  white  man's  God  say  ?  " 

Tom  replied  :  "  He  says  that  Indian  tells  the  truth — that 
my  time  has  come — that  I  must  die — that  I  must  not  fight 
the  Indians  anymore,  but  must  go  with  you  as  soon  as  my 
work  is  done." 

Hawkeye  looked  pleased  and  said  :  "  What  work  ?  " 

"  Finish  splitting  this  log,"  replied    Tom. 

The  Indians  were  so  pleased  to  capture  Tom  without  a  fight 
that  they  were  thrown  off  their  guard  and  laid  down  their 
arms. 

What  more  does  the  white  man's  God' say,  inquired  Hawk- 
eye  ? 


229 

He  says,  replied  Tom,  that  you  must  help  me  split  this  log 

. 
and  that  he  will  darken  the  sun  until  you  light  the  fire  about 

;jme.  See,  the  sun  darkens,  the  work  of  the  Great  Spirit  has 
••'  begun,  and  it  will  soon  be  night  at  noon-day. 

The  sun  was  partially  eclipsed  and  the  Indians  gazed 
with  astonishment.  Hawkeye  seemed  dumbfounded  and 
stammered  out  :  White  man's  God  great  and  powerful.  How 
did  he  say  Indian  help  ? 

Tom  replied  i  Get  three  on  a  side  and  pull  when  I  strike 
the  wedge.  The  Indians  obeyed  and  arranged  themselves 
three  on  each  side  of  the  log  with  their  fingers  in  the  crack 
of  the  log. 

We  ready,  strike  the  wedge,  said  Hawkeye. 

Tom  struck  ;  but  instead  of  striking  the  wedge  in,  he 
struck  it  out,  and  the  Indians  were  fast  in  the  log  as  much  so 
as  if  they  had  been  screwed  in  a  vice. 

Tom  was  jubilant.  He  now  had  the  six  Indians  in  his 
power  and  could  kill  them  at  his  leisure.  He  gave  one  of  his 
peculiar  laughs  and.  said  :  Ha  !  Ha  !  Mr:  Indians,  the  white 
man's  God  says  more.  He  says  you  Indians  must  die.  Look 
at  the  waning  sun.  When  that  becomes  dark,  you  Indians 
will  be  in  the  Spirit  world.  It  grows  darker,  darker.  Your 
time  has  come — now  you  die. 

The  eclipse  was  now  nearly  total,  and  Tom  proceeded  to 
the  execution  of  his  purpose  ;  by  knocking  their  brains  out 
with  the  beetle.  And  then  left  for  the  house,  leaving  the 
Indians  still  fast  in  the  log  to  become  food  for  bears  and 
wolves. 


230 
CPIAPTER    XXIV. 

Killing  a  Buck  with  Seven  Skins. 


Tom  had  a  great  many  cabins  or  caves  between  the  Water 
Gap  and  Shohola,  and  was  never  at  a  loss  for  a  place  to  stay 
over  night.  But  he  usually  wintered  at  the  house  of  some 
mutual  friend,  and  the  terms  upon  which  he  stayed  was  that 
he  should  furnish  the  winter  meat.  Any  family  living  on 
the  border  was  anxious  and  willing  to  board  him  ;  for  dur- 
ing his  stay  they  were  sure  of  being  provided  with  plenty  of 
game  and  livng  on  the  fat  of  the  land. 

On  one  occasion  winter  set  in  earlier  than  usual  and  he 
did  not  have  his  usual  supply  of  venison  on  hand  to  supply 
the  table  of  the  friend  with  whom  he  intended  to  winter. 
He  made  arrangements  for  a  long  hunt  in  a  part  of  tl  e 
country  where  he  knew  that  game  was  plenty,  and  in  a  few 
days  he  would  get  sufficient  to  supply  his  friend's  cabin  for 
a  long  time. 

The  night  before  he  intended  to  start,  a  friendly  Indian 
called  at  the  cabin  and  asked  to  stay  over  night,  which  was 
granted. 

Tom  was  suspicious,  although  the  Indian  appeared  to  be 
friendly.  They  soon  became  acquainted,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  they  agreed  to  go  on  a  hunt,  Tom  agreeing,,  to 
take  the  venison  for  his  part  and  the  Indian  the  skins. 

G£~me  was  plenty,  especially  deer.  In  fact  the  woods  seem- 
ed to  be  full  of  them.  It  was»bang  ! — bang  ! — bang  !  and  at 
every  report  a  deer  fell.  They  were  soon  skincd  and  the 
hind  quarters  hung  up  out  of  the  reach  of  bears  and 
wolves  until  Tom  could  get  time  to  take  them  to  the  cabin. 


fallen  they  came  to  count,  they  found  that  they  had  killed 

ren.     The  Indian  was  in  the  best  of  spirits,  and  so  was  his 
ipanion. 
(Me  lucky,  said  the  Indian.     Me   got    seven    skins.      They 

>rth  seven  dollars.  That  buy  me  piles  of  fire  water,  powder 

id  lead.     Whoop  !     Whoop  ! 

Seven  skins  was  all  the  Indian    could  carry,  and  it  was  re- 
)lved  to  return, Tom  to  the  cabin, and  the  Indian  to  Miuisink 
to  get  powder  fire  water  and  lead. 

The  skins  were  securly    fastened  on    his    back,    and    they 

started.     But  the  Indian  never  reached  the  settlement.  They 

had  not  traveled  far  before  the   report    of    Tom's    gun    was 

leard,  and  down  went   the    Indian,    the    ball    having    gone 

through  the  seven  skins  and  penetrated  his  heart. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  another  Indian  came  to  the 
house  where  Tom  was  stopping  and  asked  permission  to  stay 
all  night,  which  was  granted.  He  professed  to  be  very 
friendly,  but  Tom's  quick  eye  soon  discovered  that  all  was 
not  right. 

During  the  evening  the  savage  pretended  that  he  had  seen 
a  great  many  deer  a  few  miles  off,  and  asked  Tom  if  he 
wouldn't  like  to  go  the  next  day  and  kill  some  of  them. 

Tom  pretended  that  he  was  pleased  with  the  offer,  and  at 
once  agreed  to  go  with  the  Indian.  But  Tom  was  on  the 
alert.  He  was  well  convinced  that  some  Indian  deviltry  lay 
behind  this  pretended  friendship,  and  acted  accordingly. 

During  the  night  he  managed  to  get  the  Indian's  rifle  and 
draw  the  charge  and  substituted  ashes  in  the  place  of  powder 
put  the  ball  back  in  the  barrel,  and  placed  the  rifle  carefully 
back  where  he  got  it.  The  nex,t  morning  the  savage  slyly 
inserted  the  ramrod  in  the  barrel  of  his  rifle,  examined  the 
priming,  picked  the  flint  and  seemed  satisfied  that  all  was 
right.  During  this  time  Tom  watched  him  intently  and  was 


232 

more  than  ever  convinced  that  the  Indian  intended  to  take 
his  life.  But  he  manifested  no  particular  interest  and  started 
out  on  the  hunt  with  no  apparent  concern.  The  snow  was 
deep  and  the  hunters  found  it  inconvenient  to  travel  through 
it,  and  to  make  the  walking  easier  the  Indian  proposed  that 
one  of  them  should  go  ahead  to  break  the  path.  To  this  Tom 
readily  agread  and  started  on  ahead.  A  twinkle  of  the  eye 
showed  that  the  Indian  was  pleased,  but  Tom's  keen  eye  had 
observed  that  twinkle  and  the  satisfaction  that  beamed  on 
the  Indian's  countenance.  When  they  had  proceeded  a  mile 
or  two  and  had  come  to  a  very  lonely  place  Tom  heard  the 
Indian's  gun  snap  and  the  powder  flash  in  the  pan,  and  look- 
ing back,  asked  the  Indian  what  he  had  fired  at.  A  fine  buck, 
was  his  reply.  The  Indian  reprimed  his  gun  and  they  started 
on.  In  a  few  minutes  Tom  heard  another  snap  and  flash-. 
Well,  brother,  what  did  you  see  this  time  ?  An  eagle  swept 
over  the  forest,  replied  the  disappointed  savage,  at  the  same 
time  priming  his  gun. 

Brother  Indian,  said  Tom,  the  snow  is  deep  and  I  am  tired. 

Yes,  brother,  the  Indian  replied,  and  sullenly  took  his  place 
in  advance.  Tom  was  now  ripe  for  blood.  He  raised  his 
rifle  and  took  deadly  aim  at  the  Indian.  Lying  dog,  what  do 
you  see  now  ?  The  Spirit  World,  and  drew  the  blanket  over 
his  head.  You  came  to  kill  me. 

Yes,  replied  the  Indian,  but  you  have  fooled  my   gun. 

And  long  Tom  shall  fool  you.  Tom's  rifle  spoke  and  the 
Indian  was  in  the  Spirit  World. 

One  day  in  Tom's  wandering  through  the  woods  without 
his  rifle  he  met  a  young  Indian  armed.  They  soon  became 
apparent  friends.  Brother  Indian,  said  Tom,  did  you  eve? 
see  Tom  Quick  the  Indian  Slayer  ? 

No,  replied  the  youth,  but  I  would  like  to  see  him. 


233 

i  I  will  show  him  to  yon,  follow  me.  They  walked  on  until 
they  came  to  a  ledge  of  rocks,  and  Tom  peered  over.  I  do 
not  see  him  yet,  he  said,  but  he  will  soon  be  along.  Here  he 
comes  now.  You  take  my  place  if  you  want  to  get  a  good 
_  sight  of  him. 

The  Indian  cocked  his   rifle  and   hastily  and  eagerly  ad- 
vanced  to  Tom's  side.       Where  is  he,  excitedly  inquired   the 
I  red  man  ? 

There,  there,  said  Tom,  pointing  so  that  the  Indian  would 
lean  over  the  brink  in  his  desire  to  shoot  the  enemy  of  his 
race.  A  little  further,  a  little  further,  whispered  the  Indian 
slayer  to  his  proposed  victim.  The  Indian  hung  over  the 
precipice  as  far  as  he  could  without  falling.  Tom  grasped 
him  by  the  shoulders  and  said  :  Shoot  me  would  y«u  !  Shoot 
me,  and  hurled  him  over  the  precipice.  He  fell  on  the  rocks 
below  and  was  dashed  to  pieces.  And  Tom  went  on  his  way 
rejoicing,  leaving  the  body  of  his  victim  to  be  devoured  by 
the  crows. 

HFDING  GUNS"  IN  HOLLOW  TREES. 

Tom's  habit  of  hiding  guns  in  hollow  trees  in  the  woods  on 
one  occasion  saved  his  life.  Two  Indians  had  captured  him 
near  Grass  Brook  and  were  taking  him  off.  He  seemed  per- 
fectly resigned  to  his  fate  which  appeared  unavoidable,  and 
marched  with  them  unreluctantly.  His  arms  were  pinioned 
with  deer  shins  thongs,  and  his  captors  kept  upon  him  a  vigi- 
lant eye.  and  were  ready  at  any  moment  to  shoot  him  if  he 
attempted  to  break  away  from  them.  After  a  while  they 
were  visited  by  a  shower  of  rain,  and  Tom  found  that  the 
thongs  which  bound  his  wrists  began  to  stretch,  and  that 
they  had  become  so  loose  that  he  could  at  any  time  free  his 
hands.  He  was  very  careful  to  conceal  this  fact  from  the 
savages,  and  patiently  waited  for  a  favorable  time  to  run  or 
do  something  else  to  escape.  Beside  the  path  that  they  were 


234 

pursuing  there  was  a  very  large  chestnut  tree  vrhich  was  hol- 
low, and  on  the  side  of  the  trunk  that  was  the  farthest  from 
the  path,  the  wood  had  entirely  rotted  away  leaving  a  large 
hollow  space.  In  the  opening  thus  made,  Tom  had  long  be- 
fore concealed  several  guns  which  he  had  found  beside  dead 
Indians.  He  had  also  deposited  with  them  a  flask  of  powder 
and  a  goodly  store  of  bullets.  When  they  had  reached  this 
tree,  Tom  expressed  an  urgent  desire  to  go  to  it,  and  gave 
such  a  good  reason  for  the  request  he  made,  that  his  captors 
consented  to  let  him  go.  They  permitted  him  to  do  so  the  more 
readily  because  he  had  thus  far  given  them  but  little  trouble- 
The  Indians  cocked  their  rifles  when  Tom  stepped  from  .the 
path  and  aimed  them  at  him,  each  with  his  finger  on  the  trig- 
ger, and  watching  him  eagerl 3%  determined  to  bring  him  down 
if  he  made  the  least  movement  to  escape.  Tom  proceeded  to- 
ward the  tree  very  leisurely,  and  on  reaching  it,  went  behind 
it  and  was  concealed  from  the  view  of  his  enemies.  Within 
the  most  inconceivable  time  he  charged  three  of  his  weapons 
with  powder  and  lead.  The  Indians  little  thinking  what  Tom 
was  about  stood  in  the  path  with  hardly  a  twig  to  screen  them 
from  his  murderous  fire.  Tom  afterwards  said  that  he  did 
not  stop  to  return  the  ramrods  to  their  places  until  he  had  as 
many  of  his  guns  loaded  as  he  thought  he  should  need.  He 
hesitated  a  moment  after  he  was  ready  to  shoot  fearing  that 
his  guns  would  "  miss  fh'e,"  in  consequence  of  their  late  dis- 
use ;  but  knowing  that  this  was  his  last  chance,  be  blazed 
away  at  one  of  the  savages  who  fell  dead  in  his  tracks.  The 
other  tried  to  get  behind  the  nearest  unoccupied  tree,  but  he 
never  reached  there,  a  bullet  sent  him  to  the  Spirit  land,  to 
join  hands  with  those  that  had  been  sent  there  by  Tom's  rifle 
on  many  occasions  before. 

AN  OLD  LEGEND. 

* 

According  to  an  old  legend,  Tom  had  a  very  severe   battle 
with  a  savage  who  came  to  him  while  he  was  in  th$  figjd,    a^ 


. 

235 

work.  Tom  saw  the  Indian  approaching  him  unarmed  and  he 
did  not  feel  afraid  to  encounter  him  on  equal  terms.  The 
savage  told  a  plausible  tale  about  something  that  he  pretend- 
ed he  had  discovered  not  far  off  and  which  he  wished  his 
brother  Yankee  to  see.  Tom  apparantly  without  suspecting 
anything  wrong  consented  to  go  with  the  Indian.  His  quick 
eye  however  saw  a  gleam  of  malignant  satisfaction  on  the 
countenance  of  his  visitor  that  told  him  plainer  than  words 
could  have  done  what  was  the  errand  on  which  the  red  m.m 
was  bent.  The  savage  had  discovered  Tom  from  a  hill  near 
by  and  concealed  his  gun  in  the  woods  hoping  to  entice  Tom 
to  its  neighborhood  while  he  wasunarmed  and  then  he  could 
not  defend  himself.  But  he  counted  his  chickens  before  the 
(.eggs  were  hatched.  Tom  was  never  caught  napping 
He  was  now  wide  awake  and  concluded  that  there  was  a  trap 
set  for  him.  He  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  with  the  In- 
dian when  he  came  to  a  hemlock  knot  which  he  concluded 
would  be  a  very  good  weapon  in  a  rough  and  tumble  fight. 
He  stooped  to  pick  it  up  when  the  savage  perceived  what  he 
was  at,  he  sprang  iipon  him.  Then  came  the  tug  of  war. 
Tom  got  hold  of  the  knot ;  with  the  Indian  on  him,  therefore 
he  could  not  use  it.  A  long  struggle  for  life  or  death  ensued 
between  them.  Tom  finally  succeeded  and  was  once  more  a 
conqueror  He  grappled  the  Indian  by  the  throat  with  his  teeth 
and  strangled  him  to  death.  But  to  the  day  of  his  death,  he 
avered  this  was  the  hardest  and  most  severe  fight  of  his  life. 

According  to  another  legand,  a  native  attempted  to  kill  the 
Indian  slayer  while  he  was  engaged  in  a  saw  mill.  Tom  dis- 
covered him  and  arranged  his  coat  and  hat  in  such  a  way  as 
to  deceive  his  destroyer.  While  the  savage  thought  that  he 
was  about  to  shoot  Tom,  Tom  sent  a  bullet  through  the  In- 
dian's body  and  his  bullets  were  generally  fatal.  Thus  again 
the  biter  was  bitten. 


236 

Previous  to  the  Revolutionary  War,  a  man  named  John 
Showers  lived  in  a  log  house  near  the  Falls  of  Mongaup.  One 
evening  five  or  six  hunters  met  at  his  house  which  was  quite 
a  resort  for  such  people.  As  the  cabin  afforded  better  accom- 
modations than  the  forest  they  concluded  to  avail  themselves 
of  its  shelter  through  the  night.  Tom  Quick  was  among  the 
number.  During  the  evening  an  Indian  came  and  asked  per- 
mission to  remain  all  night.  He  was  told  that  he  could  stay. 
Late  in  the  evening  a  goodly  number  of  logs  were  placed  on 
the  fire.  The  hunters  wrapped  themselves  in  their  blan- 
kets and  laid  down  on  the  floor  to  sleep.  They  were"  soon  in 
the  land  of  dreams  except  Tom,  who  was  watching  silently 
for  a  chance  to  kill  the  Indian.  One  would  imagine  that  he 
had  shed  blood  enough  already.  But  Tqm  thought  oiherwise. 
The  spirit  of  his  murdered  father  still  animated  him.  When 
the  breathing  of  the  sleapers  showed  that  they  were  sound 
asleep,  Tom  threw  aside  his  blanket  and  cautiously  and  noise- 
lessly got  his  gun.  In  a  few  minutes  the  hunters  were  awak- 
ened by  an  explosion.  They  found  themselves  be-spattered 
with  brains  and  the  Indian  lay  dead  in  their  midst.  Quick 
immediately  after  the  firing  left  the  cabin  and  disappeared 
in  the  forest.  The  hunters,  after  consulting,  concluded  the 
murder  of  the  Indian  should  be  concealed,  in  order  to  avoid 
any  unpleasant  consequences  which  might  follow,  if  the  In- 
dians knew  of  it.  The  Indian  was  buried  in  the  morning, 
and  his  death  was  unknown  to  any  except  the  hunters,  until 
concealment  was  no  longer  necessary. 

CHAPTER     XXV. 
The  WJiiskey  Scene.    Six  Indians  Roasted. 


Near  the  close  of  Tom's  life,  he  was  living  in  a  cabin  near 
Barryville.  Time  had  begun  to  tell  on  him,  yet  his  work  was 
not  done.  The  murderer  of  his  father  still  lived,  and  the 


fitt 

pride  of  his  life  was  to  kill  Muswink.  He  was  contemplating 
this  tragedy  as  he  stood  at  the  door     of    his  cabin  and  gave 

vent  to  his  pent  up  feelings    in    the    following  soliloquy  : — 

fi 
'  My  work  is  nearly  done,  and  Indian  scalps  are    growing. 

scarce.  Their  number  now  stands  at  93.  The  contract  is  100. 
0,  that  I  could  meet  and  kill  and  scalp  Muswink  ;  then  my 
work  would  be  done  and  vengeance  satisfied.  It  was  he  that 
fired  the  first  gun.  It  was  he  that  robbed  the  dead  body  of 
my  father.  It  was  he  that  fired  my  heart  and  made  me  the 
avenger  of  the  Delaware  Valley.  It  was  he  that  made  me 
vow  at  my  father's  grave,  '  To  kill  all,  to  spare  none.'  That 
•  v  >w  I  have  kept,  but  Muswink  still  lives.  These  hairs  are 
growing  gray  ;  these  limbs  are  growing  stiff  ;  my  work  is 
not  yet  done.  Muswink  must — shall  die.  To-morrow  I'll  go 
to  the  Neversink  and  at  Decker's  tavern.  I  will  kill  and  scalp 
the  murderer  of  my  father.  Then  I  will  go  to  Rosencrance's 
in  the  clove  and  die.  There  I  shall  meet  again  and  for  the 
last  time,  brothers,  sisters  and  friends.  In  love  they  will 
close  my  eyes  and  lay  me  away.  There  I  shall  sweetly  sleep 
until  Gabriel  blows  his  horn  and  says,  '  Those  that  are  in 
the  grave  come  forth.'  Then  Tom  will  come  forth  with  a 
hundred  Indian  scalps  in  his  crown  as  evidence  that  I  have 
been  a  true  and  fathful  avenger.  But  I  tire  ;  I  must  go 
to  my  couch  and  dream  of  Muswink  and  to-morrow." 

Tom  enters  his  cabin  and  goes  to  bed.  Six  Indians  that 
were  bent  on  his  destruction  had  been  watching  him,  and 
were  then  planning  how  they  could  take  him  alive.  Noise- 
lessly they  approach  the  cabin  and  find  Tom  asleep.  He  is 
seized  and  taken  out  of  the  cabin  and  tied  to  a  tree.  Then 
they  went  for  Tom's  property  which  consisted  of  skins,  furs 
and  a  keg  of  brandy.  Their  joy  at  finding  the  brandy  was 
unbounded  and  caused  them  in  a  measure  to  forget  Tom. 
They  imbibed  freely  and  a  drunken  revelry  ensues,  and  all 


238 

fall  asleep  but  one.  This  one  was  bound  to  put  Tom  beyond 
the  means  of  escape.  He  takes  torch  in  one  hand  and  a  knife 
in  the  other  and  starts  to  kill  him,  but  the  brandy  had  done 
its  work.  He  stumbled  and  fell  across  Tom's  body,  and  soon 
was  in  an  unconscious  drunken  slumber. 

Tom  gets  his  knife,  cuts  his  bands  and  escapes.  The  torch 
the  Indian  carried  sets  fire  to  the  cabin  and  the  Indians  are 
roasted  in  the  flames.  Tom  views  the  fire  from  a  distance 
and  exclaims : 

That  is  putting  the  shoe  on  the  other  foot.  They  intended 
to  burn  me,  but  they  are  now  charcoal.  But  they  are  out  of  my 
way,  and  I  am  out  their  scalps.  That  makes  99.  Now  for 
the  Neversink,  Muswink  and  100. 

A  few  days  after  this  a  number  of  farmers  were  assembled 
at  Decker's  tavern,  among  which  were  the  Cuddeback's,  Gu- 
maer's  and  Swartwout's  discussing  a  horse  race  that  had  ta- 
ken place  but  a  few  days  before,  when  Muswink  suddenly  ap- 
peared. Ugh  !  Ugh  !  here  you  all  be  ;  come  and  drink  with 
the  Indian  that  killed  and  scalped  old  Tom  Quick.  Come 
along,  all  of  you.  The  war  is  over  and  the  hatchet  is  buried. 

Don't  to  be  too  sure  of  that,  said  Gumaer.  His  son,  Tom, 
still  lives,  and  with  him  the  hatchet  will  never  be  buried  un- 
til he  has  your  scalp. 

Ugh  !  Tom  Quick  take  my  scalp  ?  When  he  does,  he  is 
welcome  to  it,  replied  Muswink. 

I  understand  that  he  is  in  the  neighborhood  and  is  likely 
to  drop  in  here  at  any  moment,  said  Cuddeback. 

Let  him  drop,  said  Muswink.  I  can  handle  him  as  easy  as 
I  did  his  father. 

Maybe  not,  said  Swartwout.  You  had  the  Srst  shot  then- 
He  may  get  the  first  now. 

Never,  replied  the  savage.  Muswink  always  ready.  Ugh  ! 
Ugh  !  Ugh  !  Here  he  comes  now. 


239 

:  At  this  moment  Tom  enters  the  door  and  Muswink  salutes 
him  :  Ugh  !  He  looks  just  like  his  father. 

Tom  was  exasperated  and  seized  a  chair,  but  was  prevented 
from  striking  him  by  those  present. 

Muswink  continued  :  Look  Tom,  I  will  show  you  what  a 
pretty  face  the  old  man  made  when  I  jerked  his  scalp  off. 
(Here  Muswink  made  hideous  grimaces.)  Wan't  that  a  pretty 
face  for  an  old  man  to  make.  I  wonder  if  his  son  can  beat  it. 

Scoundrel,  exclaimed  Torn,  raising  a  chair. 

Stop,  said  Gumaer.     No  blood  shed   here. 

Let  him  come,  said  Muswink.  I  can  pull  off  his  shirt  as 
easily  as  I  did  his  father's  sleeve  buttons.  Tom,  do  you  know 
these  buttons  ?  (Showing  them.)  Do  you  know  that  I  tore 
them  from  his  shirt  the  same  time  I  did  the  scalp  from  his  head. 

Tom  could  control  his  feelings  no  longer  and  sprang  for  a 
gim  that  was  hanging  over  the  fire-place,  cocked  it  and 
presented  it  at  the  breast  of  Muswink,  exclaiming,  March  ! 

March,  where,?  said  the  frightened  Indian.  .  This  was  the 
first  that  he  had  realized  his  danger.  He  read  his  doom  in 
Tom's  countenance. 

March  !  Tom  repeated  for  the  second  time.  Muswink 
leaves  the  house  closely  followed  by  Tom  with  the  gun  at  his 
shouler  ready  to  shoot  in  case  his  victim  attempted  to  escape. 
Tom  drove  him  down  the  road  that  leads  from  Cuddeback- 
ville  to  Carpenter's  Point.  There  in  a  thick  cluster  of  pines 
Muswink  turns  toward  Tom  and  said:  Tom,  would  you  shoot  me 

Yes,  replied  Tom,  you  shot  my  father. 
,    But,  Tom,  the  war  is  over  and  peace  is  declared. 

Tom  raised  his  rifle  and  exclaimed  in  a  stentorian  voice  : 
The  war  is  not  over  but  still  rages  in  my  breast,  and  peace 
will  not  b<-  declared  until  you  die.  Die,  dog,  die. 


24:0 

Tom's  gun  spoke  and  was  heard  at  Decker's  tavern,  and  at 
that  same  instant  Muswink  went  to  the  Spirit  World.  Tom 
silently  viewed  his  corpse  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  ex- 
claimed :  Vengeance  is  satisfied.  I  swore  to  drive  the  last 
red  skin  from  the  Delaware  Valley.  I  swore  to  spare  none. 
I  swore  to  kill  the  old  man  with  silver  hair,  the  lisping  babe 
without  teeth  ;  the  mother  quick  with  child  ;  and  the  maid 
in  the  bloom  of  youth.  I  have  done  it.  The  valley  is  clear. 
The  Indians  have  gone  west  or  to  the  Spirit  World.  There  lies 
the  last  of  his  accursed  race.  Dog,  I  will  not  dirty  my  fin- 
gers with  his  scalp.  I  will  leave  his  body  to  be  cooked  and 
dried  by  the  sun,  and  the  scalp  to  be  tome  from  his  head  by 
the  wolves.  I  will  now  return  to  the  mountains  and  talk 
with  my  father's  spirit. 

Tom  Quick  was  not  destined  to  fall  by  the  hand  of  his  In- 
dian foes,  nor  to  be  successfully  captured  by  white  men. 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
Capture,  Escape  and  Death  of  Tom. 


After  the  death  of  Muswink,  the  authorities  attempted  to 
arrest  Tom,  and  bring  him  to  trial.  Not  that  they  thought 
him  guilty  of  any  serious  crime,  but  that  he  might  be  the 
means  of  bringing  on  another  Indian  War.  Most  of  the  peo- 
le  justified  the  killing  of  Mtiswink.  First,  because  he  was 
the  murderer  of  his  father  ;  secondly,  the  provocation  given 
by  Muswink  at  Decker's  Tavern  justified  Tom  in  slaying  him. 

But  at  last  he  was  arrested,  tied  and  put  in  a  sleigh  to  be 
taken  to  Newton  where  he  was  to  be  tried  for  murder. 
But  with  the  assistance  of  some  friends,  he  made  his  escape, 
ran  to  the  river,  and  plunged  in,  amid  ice  and  snow,  and 
crossed  to  the  west  bank  of  the  river,  where  he  was  concealed 


241 

ahcl  fed  by  his  friends  for  two  months,  and  then  made  his  ap« 
pearance  in  public  again,  and  died  at  the  house  of  Jacobus 
Aosencrance  in  1756. 

*•  Tradition  says,  he  died  of  Smallpox.      That    the    Indians 
learing  of  his  death,  dug  up  his    remains,    and    distributed 
them  among  several  tribes  of  Indians.  The  Smallpox  became 
>revalent  and  several  tribes  were  nearly  annihilated.     Thus, 
•  Samsonlike,  "  he  slew  more  at  his  death  than  he    did    when 
living." 

Tom  Quick's  death  was  in  keeping  with  his  life.  He  firmly 
[believed  that  he  was  appointed  by  God  to  avenge  his  father's 
death.     At  times  he  had  fears  that  his  father's   spirit  would 
be  offended  because  he  had    not   sent   more   Indians  to   the 
Spirit  world. 

Tom  loved  his  rifle  and  called  the  scalps  he  had  taken  "his 
crowns,  his  jewels,"  his  passports  to  the  Spirit  world. 

A  short  time  before  his  death,  he  said  to  the  persons  that 
were  around  him  :  I  am  going  to  meet  my  father  and  fell 
back  on  his  pillow.  When  he  awoke,  he  seemed  to  be  disap- 
pointed, and  looked  around  in  a  bewildered  gaze  :  "  Where 
am  I  ?  Is  this  heaven  ?  No  this  is  earth.  But  lam  in  sight 
of  heaven.  I  see  the  silver  lining  behind  the  cloud.  I  see 
the  portals  open.  I  hear  my  father  say — Come  Tom,  con  e. 
Where  is  my  old  companion  ?  (His  gun  is  handed  him).  Faith- 
ful to  the  last.  Where  are  my  jewels,  my  crowns  ?  (A  string 
of  scalps  is  handed  him.)  These  are  crowns  of  glory,  my 
passports  to  the  Spirit  World.  Father,  I  come.  And  dropped 
back  dead. 

Thus  ended  Thomas  Quick,  Jr.  One  of  the  most  remark- 
able characters  that  ever  lived  in  the  Delaware  Valley.  His 
ashes  now  repose  on  the  spot  where  he  was  born.  (Milford, 
Pa.)  And  after  nearly  one  hundred  years,  a  suitable  monu- 
ment has  been  erected,  to  perpetuate  his'memory. 


242 

The  reader  may  ask,  What  excuse  is  there  for  his  several 
crimes  ?  A  conversation  that  took  place  between  his  mother 
and  Maggie  Quick  his  neice,  answers  the  question  :  Grandma 
what  makes  Uncle  Tom  act  so  queer,  and  stay  away  from 
home  so  much  ? 

Her  grandma  answered  :  The  murder  ofshis  father  turned 
his  head,  and  now  he  is  not  responsible  for  anything  he  says 
or  does. 

Yes  it  was  the  murder  of  his  father  that  turned  his  head, 
and  made  him  the  avenger  of  the  Delaware  Valley. 

(Gardner,  in  his  life  of  Tom  Quick,  page  17,  says  :  It  was 
this  sad  event  that  fired  the  heart  of  the  bereaved  and  fran- 
tic son.  Tom  was  transformed.  He  was  from  that  time  for- 
ward known  as  the  "  Indian  Slayer,"  or  as  he  called  himself, 
"  the  Avenger  of  the  Delaware."  Rough  in  his  manners, 
having  been  accustomed  from  infancy  as  much  to  iiidian  as 
to  civilized  life,  he  had  a  heart  which  beat  with  the  warmest 
affection  toward  all  his  kindred,  especially  his  father. 

The  spot  where  his  father  fell  beneath  the  ball  and  the 
scalping  knife  of  the  Indians,  was  a  Carthaginian  altar  to 
him.  Hamlibar,  brought  his  son  Hannibal  to  the  altar  of  the 
Gods,  that  he  might  swear  eternal  enmity  to  Rome. 

Tom  Quick's  consecration  to  the  destruction  of  the  race 
whose  warriors  had  wrought  the  death  of  his  father,  lacked 
indeed  the  forms  of  religious  rites,  but  possessed  the  substen- 
ance,  and  no  more  steadily  on  a  wider  field  did  the  son  of 
Hamlibar  follow  out  the  pledges  of  his  youth,  than  did  Tom 
Quick  Press  on  to  the  fulfillment  of  his  vow  of  vengeance, 
thinking  as  he  did,  "  that  the  blood  of  the  whole  Indian  race 
was  not  sufficient  to  atone  for  the  blood  of  his  father."  His 
oath  was  not  violated.  He  lived  to  see  the  day  when  he  could 
traverse  the  river  from  one  end  to  the  other  without  encount. 
ering  a  red  man. 


243 

But  as  we  have  said  before,  Tom  Quick  was  now  trans- 
formed. He  took  to  himself  the  title  of  the  "  Avenger  of 
the  Delaware."  He  who  had  before  been  a  friend  to  both 
white  an  Indian,  now  carried  with  him  a  double  spirit,  hav- 
ing no  sentiment  but  that  of  friendship  for  the  settlers  and 
love  for  his  kindred,  he  had  intense  hatred  and  loathing 
toward  the  Indians. 

Cato,  on  a  broader  field,  in  the  presence  of  the  Roman  Sen- 
ate, and  with  comparatively  little  provocation,  was  accus- 
tomed to  close  his  speeches  with  the  exclamation:  "  Delenda 
est  Carthage,"  Let  Carthage  be  destroyed  !  Those  who 
heard  him  applauded,  and  his  name  appears  high  in  history 
as  a  Roman  patriot.  The  appeal  of  Cato  was  prompted  by 
jealousy  of  the  rising  and  rival  power  of  Carthage.  "  Let 
the  Indians  be  destroyed,"  was  the  sentiment  of  Tom  Quick 
Between  the  two,  as  regards  provocation,  Tom  Quick  stands 
upon  the  higher  ground." 

Some  allowance  should  be  made  in  Tom's  favor.  The 
times  in  which  he  lived  should  be  taken  into  consideration. 
He  was  born  in  1734  and  died  in  1796,  therefore  he  lived 
through  the  tragic  times  of  the  French  and  English,  and 
Revolutionary  Wars.  He  lived  at  a  time  when  an  anemy's 
life  was  cheap  ;  he  lived  at  a  time  when  a  reward  was  paid 
for  Indian  scalps.  Orders  were  issued  to  that  effect  from 
the  Government  :  "  You  are  to  acquaint  the  men,  that  if  in 
their  ranging  if  they  meet  with  or  at  any  time  are  attacked 
by  the  enemy  and  kill  any  of  them,  Forty  Dollars  will  be  al- 
lowed aud  paid  by  the  Government  for  each  scalp  of  an  Ir 
dian  enemy  so  killed." 

This  was  in  1756.  In  1764  the  bounties  by  Penn  were  : — 
'•  For  every  male  above  ten  years  captured  $150,  scalped,  be- 
ing killed  $134  ;  for  every  female  Indian  enemy,  and  every 
male  under  ten  years  of  age,  captured  $130  ;  for  every  female 
above  ten  years  of  age,  scalped  being  killed 


244 

But  we  have  no  record  that  Tom  received  any  bounty.  The 
presumption  is  that  he  scalped  to  revenge  his  father's  death 
and  not  for  money.  But  the  strongest  proof  that  Tom's  ac- 
tions were  approved  by  the  people,  and  that  he  was  looked 
upon  by  the  settlers  as  a  protector  of  their  homes  and  the 
guardian  of  their  wives  and  children,  is  the  fact  that  he  was 
always  welcome  to  their  houses,  and  a  plate  placed  for  him 
at  the  table.  Not  only  this,  but  the  fact  that  they  univer- 
sally screened  him  from  the  Government  officers.  In  a  word, 
they  were  proud  to  think  that  one  of  their  number  had  the 
courage  to  face  the  whole  Indian  nation  of  red  skins. 

Such  was  the  opinion  of  the  early  settlers  of  the  character 
of  our  hero,  and  time  has  not  changed  that  opinion. 

His  life  and  character  has  been  published  to  the  world. 
Historians  have  eulogized  his  merits.  Dramatists  have  ex- 
emplefied  his  life  and  character  on  the  stage,  and  the  des- 
cendants of  the  early  settlers  have  raised  a  monument  over 
his  dust  in  his  native  town,  at  the  spot  where  he  was  born  to 
perpetuate  his  memory. 

His  historians  have  been  James  Quinlan  of  Monticello,  N. 
Y.,  P.  H.  Smith,  of  Newburgh,  N.  Y.,  Wm.  Bross,  of  Chicago, 
Ills.,  and  A.  S.  Gardner,  of  Milford,  Pa. 

In  1888,  James  M.  Allerton  of  Port  Jervis,  N.  Y.,  published 
a  drama  in  five  acts  entitled,  "  Tom  Quick  the  Avenger,  or 
One  Hundred  for  One,"  which  was  well  received  by  the  public. 

And  then  to  crown  all,  his  descendants  on  the  28th  of 
August  1889,  unveiled  a  monument  to  his  memory,  in  the 
presence  of  a  thousand  persons,  amid  the  roar  of  cannon  and 
the  huzzahs  of  a  thousand  voices. 

"  The  monument  stands  in  a  street  sixty  feet  wide,  a  street 
which  is  destined  to  be  a  part  of  one  of  the  leading  pleasure 
drives  of  Milford. 


24:5 

'From  the  monument  can  be  seen  a  range  of  hills  extending 
all  around  the  village.  Also  in  the  distance  the  Shawangunk 
mountains  in  New  Jersey.  Near  by  is  the  Van  de  Mark, 

finch  comes  from  a  distance  among  the    hills    towards    the 

>rthwest,  and  flows  southeastward  until  it  empties   at    Mil- 

>rd  eddy  into  the  Delaware. 

The  inscriptions  on  the  monument  are  as  follows  i 
On  the  side  looking  east  :   Emblem  on  shaft,  a  wreath.    In- 
scription on  die  : 

Turn  Quick  was  the  first  white  child  born  within  the  lim- 
its of  the  present  Borough  of  Mil  ford.  This  spot  was 
his  birth-place  and  home  till  the  cruel   death   of 

his  father   by  the   Indians^  1756. 
On  the  base  next  to  the  die  :   . 

Tom  Quick,  the  Indian  Slayer  ; 

or 
The  Avenger  of  the  Delaware. 

On  side  of  monument  looking  south  :  Emblem  on  shaft 
the  following  grouped  together  and  united  by  a  shield  :  Tom- 
ahawk, canoe  paddle,  scalping  knife,  calumet,  wampum.  In- 
scription on  die : 

Maddened  by  the  death  of  his  father  in  the  hands  of  the 

Savages,  Tom  Quick  never  abated  his  hostility    to 

them  until  the  day  of  his  death,  a   period  of 

over  forty  years. 

On  base  next  to  the  die  : 

Tom  Quick  died  in  1796,  at  the  house  of  James  Rosecrantz 

on  the  banks  of  the  Delaware,five miles  northeast  of  this 

spot,  and  was  buried  on   the  farm  of  his    friend    in 

what  is  now  the  Rose  Cemetery,  two  miles  south 

of  Matamoras.       His  remains  wer--  taken  up 

on  the  i loth  anniversary  of  the  battle  of 

the    Minisink,    July    22d,    1889,    and 

and    placed    feeneath   this 

monument. 


246 

On  north  side:   Emblem  on  shaft, plow.  Inscription  on  die: 

Thomas  Quick,  Sr.,  Father  of  Tom  Quick,  his  oldest  child 

emigrated  from  Holland  to  America,  and  settled  on 

this  spot  in  1733.  He  was  the  first  white  settler  in 

this  part  of  the  upper  Delaware,  and  his  Log 

Cabin  Saw  Mill  and  Grist  Mill,  built  on 

this  bank  of  the  Van  De  Mark, were 

the  firf-'t  structures  ever  erected 

by    white    men 
in  the  settlement  of  this  region. 

On  the  base  next  the  die  : 

After  a  peaceful  residence  here  of  twenty  years,    and  of 
unbroken  friendship  with  the  Indians,  Thomas  Quick, 
Sr.,  while  crossing  the  Delaware  on  the  ice,    car- 
rying a  grist  on  his  shoulder,  was   shot   and 
scalped   by   his    supposed    friends,    the 
Delawares,    who  were  lying  in    am- 
bush along  the  bluff  on  the  south 
side  of  the  mouth  of  theV?n 
De  Mark,  and  half  a  mile 
east  of  his   humble 

home. 

On  west  side  :  Emblem  on  shaft,  flag  of  the  United  States 
on  standard  and  partly  furled.     Inscription  on  die  : 

This  monument  was  erected  by  a  descendant  of  Thomas 

Quick,  of  the  fourth  generation  ;  in  youth  a  resident 

of  Mil  ford,  in  age,  one  of  the   founders   of   the 

"  Chicago  Tribune,"  and  from    1865    to    1869 

Lieutenant  Gevernor  of  the  the  State 

of  Illinois. 

Inscription  on  base  next  to  die  : 

Done  under  the  direction  of  Rev.  A.  S  Gardiner,    Pastor 
of  the  Fir>st  Presbyterian  Church  of  Milford,  1089, 


HPPENDIX, 

Page  6.— High  Point.  Is  situated  in  Sussex  Co.,  5^  miles 
southeast  of  Port  Jervis,  and  is  the  most  elevated  land  in  the 
State  of  New  Jersey,  being  1804  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea  and  1395  feet  above  the  Delaware  Valley  at  Tri-States 
Rock.  From  its  peak  twenty-seven  cities  and  villages  can  be 
seen.  The  scenery  is  grand  and  sublime.  Extending  north 
to  the  Catskills,  south  to  the  Water  Gap,  east  to  the  Highlands 
and  west  across  the  Delaware,  Neversink  and  Mamakating 
Valleys  ;  while  the  pure  ait  from  the  pine  forests  of  Sullivan 
County  drives  the  malaria  and  mosquitoes  toward  the  Atlan- 
tic, It  is  crowned  by  a  beautiful  lake,  supplied  by  pure 
crystal  spring  water,  and  a  first-class  hotel,  where  the  wants 
of  the  inner  man  can  be  supplied. 

Page  9.— Peenpack  Ford.  Was  the  usual  place  of  crossing 
the  Neversink  River  in  early  times,  and  was  located  south- 
east of  the  present  residence  of  Peter  D.  Swartwout.  It  is 
now  crossed  by  an  iron  bridge, 

Page  15. — Steneykill.  A  small  stream  of  water  that  rises 
near  the  the  "  Old  Jersey  claim  line,"  in  lot  36  of  the  first  di- 
vision of  the  Minisink  Patent,  at  the  outlet  of  Long  Swamp, 
which  was  originally  a  Beaver  Dam,  and  runs  through  lot  40 
of  the  yth  division  of  the  Minisink  Patent,  and  empties  into 
the  Shinglekill  on  lot  41;  on  the  farm  formerly  owned  by 
John  Van  Etten  and  now  owned  by  F.  H.  Maguire 

Page  19. — Shinglekill.  A  stream  of  water  flowing  out  of 
Big  Pond  about  two  miles  west  of  Peenpack  (Huguenot,)  and 
flows  through  lots  41  and  42  of  the  ;th  division  of  the  Minisink 
Patent,  and  empties  into  the  Delaware  River  at  Bolton  Basin. 
Shinglekill  Island  where  Drake  landed  the  raft  is  just  west 
of  the  mouth  of  the  Shinglekill  Brook,  and  the  Beneykill  is 
the  water  that  flows  between  the  Island  and  the  west  shore, 


Page  23. — Charles  Webl).  In  1704,  Her  Late  Majesty  Queen 
Ann.  granted  to  Matthew  Ling  and  others,  the  land  now  in- 
cluded within  the  Minisink  Patent.  John  Thomas  and 
Stephen  Crane  were  appointed  Commissioners,  and  Charles 
Webb,  surveyor.  Between  1704  and  1763,  Charles  Webb  sur- 
veyed the  several  divisions  and  filed  the  map  in  the  office  of 
the  Secretary  of  State  on  the  i4th  day  of  February  1763.  The 
only  remaining  copy  of  that  map  is  in  the  possession  of  the 
author,  and  it  was  while  Charles  Webb  was  making  this  sur- 
vey that  he  found  Walter  Wallace,  one  of  the  heroes  of  our 
tale. 

Page  34. — Bottle  Rock.  A  large  rock  in  the  Nevcrsink 
River  in  the  shape  of  a  bottle,  on  land  formerly  owned  by 
Abraham  J.  Cuddeback. 

Page  35. — Sand  Hill.  This  was  the  Indian  Cemetery  and  is 
situated  on  the  west  side  of  the  Neversink  River,  about  thrte 
miles  northeast  of  the  "  Tri-States  Rock,"  on  the  farm  now 
(1892)  owned  by  Levi  Van  Etten.  The  river  has  washed  the 
most  of  it  away,  and  frequently  skeletons  of  Indians  that 
were  buried  hundreds  of  years  ago  are  exposed  to  view. 

Page  36. — Handy  Hill.  Is  a  ridge  of  land  extending  north- 
easterly from  Big  Pond  to  Hartwood.  A  noted  hunter  by  the 
'  name  of  Handy  formerly  lived  there.  The  Handy  Town  road 
was  the  first  road  laid  out  in  the  town  of  Deerpark  leading 
from  the  Neversink  Valley  to  Sullivan  County. 

Page  38. — The  Grave  of  Mary  Powers  was  on  the  bank  of 
the  Delaware  River,  about  forty.rods  northwest  of  the  Shin- 
glekill.  The  stone  wall  around  it  was  visable  in  1840,  since 
that  the  bank  has  slid  down  into  the  canal. 

Page  60. — Flat  Boat.  This  was  a  craft  about  thirty  feet 
long  and  twelve  feet  wide,  and  was  used  in  early  times  by 
the  Indian  traders  to  transport  their  goods  to  the  head  wa- 
tesof  the  Delaware,  where  they  exchanged  their  goods  with 
the  Indians  for  furs.  They  towed  or  poled  the  bout  up  the, 
River,  and  floated  d.own  with  the  current, 


Page  86. — Hollicot  Glen.  This  was  a  narrow  gulch  on  the 
old  Mill  Dam  Brook,  about  one  mile  west  of  Peenpack. 

Page  87. — Spring  Brook.  In  the  early  history  of  the  Vai- 
l^y  a  Spring  Brook  run  from  about  where  the  Erie  Railroad 
Round  House  in  Port  Jervis  is,  to  the  Delaware  River. 

Page  89- — Battle  of  theNeversink.  Tradition  says,  that  the 
bodies  of  those  that  perished  in  the  Battle  of  the  Neversink) 
were  buried  in  three  pits  near  the  bank  of  the  Delaware 
River.  In  the  year  1847,  the  New  York  and  Erie  Railroad 
was  built  through  the  Village  of  Port  Jervis.  In  excavating 
and  removing  the  earth  near  the  bank  of  the  river  southwest 
cf  Front  Street,  and  about  two  hundred  feet  from  the  south 
side  of  the  street,  on  or  near  the  land  formerly  owned  by  J. 
H.  Dimmick.  and  used  by  him  as  a  lumber  yard,  three  pla- 
ces were  opened  containing  human  bones.  They  were  re- 
markably preserved.  The  author  saw  several  skulls  in  which 
their  teeth  retained  their  whiteness.  Joseph  Van  Inwegen 
was  foreman  of  the  work,  and  Thomas  Goble  was  one  of  the 
teamsters.  They  are  both  dead  now.  A  few  days  before  the 
death  of  Goble,  the  author  requested  Dr.  W.  L.  Cuddeback  to 
call  on  Goble  and  inquire  of  him  in  relation  to  the  finding  of 
human  bones  at  the  time  they  were  building  the  railroad 
through  Port  Jervis.  The  Doctor  called  on  Goble,  who  re- 
lated the  fact  of  finding  the  bones  substantially  as  stated  by 
the  author.  The  place  of  these  pits  was  pointed  out  to  the 
author  by  Jacob  C.  Wilson. 

Page  96.— Skull  Rock.  This  rock  is  situated  In  the  Town 
of  Lumberland,  Sullivan  County,  N.  Y.  About  one  and  a 
half  miles  east  of  Pond  Eddy,  and  one  "fourth  of  a  mile  west 
of  Fish  Cabin  Brook.  The  projecting  rock  shown  in  the  en- 
graving at  gage  96  was  blasted  off  during  the  building  of  the 
Delaware  and  Hudson  Canal. 

Page  105.— Bushkill  Falls.  These  Falls  are  on  the  Bush- 
kill  Brook  which  rises  at  the  Sand  Springs  on  the 


p  roperty,  and  about  a  half  a  mile  west  of  Rio  Post  Office, 
and  three  fourths  of  a  mile  east  of  the  Mongaup  River.  The 
Rattle  Snake  den  has  been  blasted  out  to  get  quarry  stone. 
Formerly  trout  were  numerous  in  this  stream,  which  is  lo- 
cated in  lot  No.  38  of  the  yth  Division, of  the  Minisink  Patent 
in  the  Town  of  Deerpark. 

tPage  175.— Yah  House,    or  Hunting   House.       Was   sit- 
. 
tiated  at  or  near  Wurtsboro,  Sullivan  Co.,  N.  Y.       It   was   at 

this  house  that  Charles  Webb  commenced  the  survey  of  the 
Minisink  Patent. 

Page  210.— Fort  Dewitt,  now  Port  Clinton.  Is  situated  on 
the  south  side  of  the  Neversink  River,  one  mile  south  of 
Cuddebackville,  and  about  one  eight  of  a  mile  east  of  the  ac- 
queduct  over  the  Delaware  and  Hudson  Canal.  Governor 
Dewitt  Clinton  was  born  in  this  house.  His  parents  resided 
in  the  Town  of  Montgomery,  and  his  mother  was  on  a  visit 
to  the  Dewitt  family  at  the  time  of  his  birth,  where  she  had 
been  detained  for  several  days  by  a  long  northeast  snow  storm. 

Page  2  It).— Cahoonshee  Trail.  The  road  running  from 
Huguenot  to  Mongaup  bridge  is  nearly  on  this  trail  and 
strikes  the  Mongaup  River  opposite  Grassy  Brook.  The  trail 
continued  northwest  to  Cochecton  in  Sullivan  Co.  This  was 
the  trail  taken  by  Brandt  after  his  raid  in  the  Neversink  Val- 
ley in  July  1779,  in  which  he  was  followed  by  Colonel  Haw- 
thorn and  Tusten,  and  ended  in  the  Battle  of  Minisink,  in 
the  Town  of  Highland,  Sullivan  Co.,  on  the  22nd  day  of  July 
1779- 
Page  212.— Grave  of  Cahoonshee.  Cahonshee  was  buried 
on  Sub.  Div.  Lot  No.  7  of  the  i7th  Div.  of  the  Minisink  Patent, 
about  one  hundred  feet  east  of  the  Plank  Road,  and  directly 
in  the  rear  of  the  Baptist  Church  on  the  farm  formerly  owned 
by  the  author,  later  by  John  L.  Chase  and  now  owned  by  Ja- 
cob Bauer.  In  1839  the  grave  of  Cahoonshee  was  pointed  out 
to  the  author  by  an  old  resident  of  the  Town  of  Deerpark  by 


the  name  of  Jacob  C.  Wilson.  He  was  a  man  of  limited  edu- 
cation, but  of  an  enquiring  mind  and  retentive  memory.  He 
was  well  read  in  history,  both  ancient  and  modern,  especially 
English,  French,  Holland,  Roman  and  Egyptian.  He  had 
American  History  at  his  tongue's  end,  and  especially  that 
part  that  related  to  the  North  American  Indians.  He  was 
conversant  with  the  traditional  history  of  the  Delaware,Nev- 
ersink  and  Mamakating  Valleys,  and  to  him  more  than  any 

other  one  the  author  is  indebted  for  the   facts   containad   in 

• 

this  book.  The  pitts  containing  the  remains  of  those  that  fell 
in  the  battle  of  the  Neversink,  and  the  grave  of  Mary  Pow- 
ers he  pointed  out  to  me  when  I  was  a  boy.  Soon  after  he 
showed  me  the  grave  of  Cahoonshee.  At  that  time  I  trimmed 
up  a  small  pine  tree,  that  was  then  about  4  inches  ii:  diame- 
ter, which  stood  about  eight  feet  north  of  Cahoonshee(s 
grave.  This  tree  grew  to  be  about  three  feet  in  diameter. 
In  1885  it  was  struck  by  lightening,  and  is  now  (1892)  dead, 
and  only  a  dead  white  stump  about  twelve  feet  high  marks  the 
resting  place  of  the  Indian  Warrior  Cahoonshee.  I  deem  it 
proper  to  say  that  when  Jacob  C.  Wilson  died,  he  was  buried 
but  a  few  feet  from  Cahoonshee  in  this  secluded  Cemetery. 
But  a  few  years  later  his  remains  were  removed  to  Quarry 
Hill  Cemetery.  I  am  indebted  to  several  other  persons  for  the 
traditions  upon  which  the  "  Hawk,s  Nest"  is  founded  among 
which  are  Boltos  Nearpass,  David  Canfield  and  Jonathan 
Corey. 

Page  213.—  Johannes  Casparus  Freyenmout.  Was  the  first 
Minister  of  the  Gospel  that  preached  in  the  Delaware  Val- 
ley. His  church  was  built  of  logs,  and  was  situated  within 
the  present  limits  of  the  Village  of  Port  Jervis,  on  land  now 
(1892)  owned  by  Eli  Van  Inwegen,  on  the  northeast  corner  of 
New  Jersey  Avenue,  and  Main  Street,  opposite  the  old  bury- 
ing ground,  and  was  destroyed  by  Brandt  in  1779. 


£age  220.— Farming.  It  is  the  opinion  of  the  author  that 
at  the  commencement  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  there  was 
more  land  under  cultivation  than  there  is  at  the  present 
time.  Their  farming  implements  consisted  of  a  wooden 
mould  board  plough,  grain  sickle,  grass  sythe  and  hoe.  With 
these  simple  tools  they  harvested  more  grain,  cut  more  grass 
and  made  more  money  than  the  farmers  of  the  present  day., 

I*age  223i — Tom  Quick's  Gun.  Is  in  the  possession  of  the 
author.  It  has  been  cut  off  and  now  measures  five  feet  ten 
inches,  aid  weighs  seventeen  and  a  half  pounds. 


\\\EUNIVER 


